There Goes My Heart
by AlwaysKatie7
Summary: The end result might seem easy, but it was a winding road that led Ron and Hermione together. (A collection of missing moments through the years)
1. Chapter 1: Protecting Harry

**A/N: **This is going to be a missing moments Ron/Hermione story from SS to DH. Now I know what all of you are thinking ("Not Again!" "What ever happened to creativity!" "I've read about 50 of these!") But please, hold out for me! I'm re-reading the series for the up-tenth time, and I really felt the need to create my own version of the missing bits that add up to what makes Ron and Hermione, well, Ron and Hermione. I am trying to avoid moments that have been done numerous times, but bear with me if you have to endure my versions of some of them... they're too good to pass up writing!

I'm am going to try my best and update this once a week, but I'm doing them as I come across the moments in the books, not to mention that I start school in a week, so I can only do my best when life gets in the way. I have no set amounts of moments for each book, it's just whatever I come across that I want to write!

The title for the story comes from the chorus of the Alan Jackson song "There Goes" because I am completely not creative when it comes to titles, and I am rather fond of the song: _"But there goes your paralyzing eyes; There goes your tantalizing smile; There goes my act of playing it cool; And there go the words I meant to say; There go the games I wanted to play; There goes my heart, falling for you" _

So without further ado, enjoy the first chapter, set during chapter 13 "Nicholas Flamel" of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone _

**DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and his world. Alan Jackson and his people own "There Goes" I just hopelessly admire their work and dabbl**e.

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_Chapter One- Protecting Harry._

"Come on, Hermione, just one game."

"We both know you'll win, so what's the point?" Hermione said sourly.

Ron shrugged. "Practice. You can't get better at it if you never _play_. Besides, what else have you got to do?"

"Study, Ron! Exams are only _weeks_ away. Aren't you at least _slightly_ worried about them?"

"No," said Ron simply. Hermione huffed at him before returning to her Transfiguration book, which was spread out against the arm of her chair while she copied its information onto the stack of notecards in her lap.

Ron sighed and slumped back into his own armchair next to Hermione's, near the Common Room fire. Harry had left the pair of them for Quidditch practice, and ever since Hermione had buried herself in her work and left Ron to hopelessly try and convince her to play a game of chess. _Harry would have played with me_, he thought bitterly, missing his best friend even more by the second.

The morning after they'd saved her from the troll, Hermione had sat across from them at breakfast, and he and Harry had included her in their conversation. As though it was some unspoken agreement, from that point on Hermione tagged along with them, and they'd become a sort of trio. Friends. Admittedly, she'd gotten a lot better since the day they'd all first met on the Hogwarts Express. Now that she'd broken the rules once, by covering for him and Harry, she seemed a little less concerned about doing it again... and a relaxed Hermione was a fun Hermione.

Unfortunately, it seemed like whenever Harry was gone, things grew more awkward between she and him. As soon as Harry had left today, they'd grown quiet and stared at each other blankly for few moments before Hermione had muttered something about homework and pulled over her school bag. It was like they couldn't even _talk_ to one another without Harry there between them. Ron was beginning to wonder if she was perhaps still secretly mad at him for what he'd said on Halloween. Maybe she didn't really like him at all, and only put up with him because she wanted to be friends with Harry. He gulped. Surely that wasn't it?

As this new panic set in he tried vainly to get her to turn her attention away from her schoolwork, once again. "I think I know what it is," he said hotly, in a last ditch attempt, "You just can't _stand_ the thought of losing at something. You don't want to play chess because you know I'm better at it than you, and _hate_ being anything less than perfect all of the bloody time."

Hermione's cheeks flushed and she finally looked up from her book to glare at him. "That is _not_ true Ron."

But from the color still on her face Ron could tell that what he'd said was really quite correct, and she couldn't stand him for it. He locked his eyes on hers and they sat there mutually glaring at each other until Hermione finally spoke. "Pull out the board then," She said with a groan, gathering up her notes and shoving them into her bag. Ron felt like punching the air with joy as he set up the pieces.

Five minutes into the game, Hermione had already lost several of her black pieces, and Ron was only down a couple of pawns. "How did you get so good at this?" She asked as he took one of her knights.

Ron looked up at her. She seemed genuinely curious. "My brother Charlie taught me. I've always done well at it."

"Oh," Hermione replied, moving her piece to take his castle. _How had he not seen that?_ It was all her fault for talking when he was trying to concentrate!

A few silent moves later, however, and he was back in the lead. "Don't worry, i'm sure you'll get better _eventually," _he grinned jokingly. She shook her head.

"Haha," she said flatly, but even she was smiling a bit. They were having fun, the two of them! _She can't possibly hate me after all..._

Ron stopped intently planning out his next move to address that still nagging thought. "You aren't still upset with me about Halloween, are you?"

Hermione's brown eyes widened and she shook her head furiously, her bush of hair moving along in the same motion. "What would make you think that?"

"I don't know," Ron said quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason, that he knew she liked Harry more than him.

"How could I possibly be still be mad at you? I mean, that troll would have probably killed me if it hadn't been for you. Your wingardium leviosa charm was brilliant, and you even finally managed to pronounce it right!" She smiled at him knowingly.

"But you never would have been in there with the troll if I hadn't said that thing about the amount of friends you have," Ron pointed out stubbornly, trying to keep from grinning at her compliment. Did she really think that about him?"

"But if I you hadn't said that and I hadn't been caught by the troll I would probably _still_ have no friends. It turned out to be a good thing for me, really."

This time he really grinned.

"It's still your turn," Hermione said eventually, motioning towards the board.

"Right." He tried to refocus and assess the board. It was a lot more difficult after Hermione had said those things about him. She actually cared about him after all, at least a little. Just as he was about to take her second knight, Harry staggered back into the common room, and took the seat next to him. "Don't talk to me for a moment. I need to concen-" Ron stopped abruptly when he caught sight of his friend's face, which looked as if it had just gotten hit with the troll's club. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible." *

It didn't take long for Harry to tell them... Snape was referring the next Quidditch match. Ron and Hermione locked eyes, seemingly thinking the same thing: this could not be good.

* * *

"Pay attention, Ron!" Hermione snapped, staring over at the redheaded boy, who just happened to be making multi-colored sparks erupt through the air.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Ron replied, not really sounding sorry at all. Nevertheless he decided to amuse her by lowering his wand and having another look at the open textbook laid out on one of the desks. Hermione had run off to the library to find the brown-leather covered volume, and the two were currently following its instructions on performing the Leg-Locker Curse in an empty classroom.

After Harry had told them he still planned to participate in the match refereed by Snape, Hermione had insisted they secretly try and learn a curse to cast on the Professor if he tried to pull another stunt on Harry, like bewitching his broom again. Ron had suggested the Leg-Locker Curse immediately, remembering Neville hopping through the portrait hole after Malfoy had cast the incantation on him. Their mutual need to protect Harry had kept Ron and Hermione from enjoying their free periods on more than one occasion, as they practiced the jinx whenever it was possible without being discovered.

"Try it again then," Hermione's voice boomed out from behind him. Ron's head shot up from the book and he turned to face her, raising his wand once more. He cast the spell loudly, and managed to get it completely right for the very first time, as Hermione's legs sprung together and she fell back with a thud onto the cushions she'd accioed in earlier, unable to keep her balance. Ron quickly hurried over to her to perform the counter curse and saw that she was smiling broadly at him.

"Well done, Ron! At this rate we'll be able to really catch Snape off guard he tries to start something. Alright, let me have another go." She pulled herself from the floor and drew her wand, pointing it at Ron. She was equally successful at the curse, but Ron managed to miss the pile of cushions and fell painfully into a desk on his way down. "Are you alright?" Hermione screeched fearfully, running over to unlock his legs and help him up again. He scowled and rubbed his back, which he could feel bruising already, in response.

"Maybe we should stop for the day Hermione. The match is only a half hour away, we should head down to the pitch to get seats. Besides, we've already gotten the spell completely memorized! Snape won't know what hit him."

"I suppose you're right. I _still_ can't believe a _teacher _could be so cruel! I _wish_ we knew who Flamel was, then we'd be one step closer to getting Snape sacked. He's just _so_ horrible."

Ron looked at her, impressed. Although she had finally accepted that Snape was after whatever it was the three-headed dog was guarding, Hermione still rarely let on how much of a prat he was, at least compared to him and Harry's constant criticisms about the Potion's master. _Hermione is really too kind for her own good_, he thought.

"We'll-well actually it will probably just be you-will find out who he is eventually. You have to have read ninety percent of the library by now."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she gathered up the cushions in the corner of the deserted classroom and packed away the book that had taught them the Leg-Locker Curse. "Thanks for that Ron, what a compliment."

"No problem." He opened the classroom and motioned for her to exit, following out after her. From behind, he couldn't see the hint of a smiling lighting up Hermione's face as she shook her head at him, one of her best friends.

*quote taken from page 217 of the USA edition of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

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**A/N-** Until next week, thanks for reading! Please take the time to review, I would really appreciate any tips/thoughts/comments/questions you have to offer. Also, I would like to apologize for my highly minimal knowledge of chess. Sorry about that.


	2. Chapter 2: Back Through the Trapdoor

**A/N- **I have decided to change my update day to the weekend, rather than Monday, because it will work out better for me, considering that school is about to start up again. So from this point onwards, you can expect updates on Saturday or Sunday (unless I get really behind).

This is going to be the last chapter for Sorcerer's Stone. As the books get larger, so will the amounts of moments, but Sorcerer's Stone is a pretty small book, especially considering Hermione isn't even friends with Harry and Ron until halfway through!

This chapter is set during chapter 17 "The Man with Two Faces" of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. _Happy reading!

**DISCLAIMER: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a FanFiction writer in possession of a Harry Potter book must be in want of JK Rowling's skill. Unfortunately, no one but her can claim that. And no one but her owns Harry Potter. **

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_Chapter Two- Back Through the Trapdoor_

Hermione was terrified. She was sitting, stock still, in her usual armchair by the common room fire. Ron was next to her in _his_ usual seat, his face placid but his body as rigid as her own. They had been silent for almost half an hour, silently watching the flames and lost in their own thoughts, but neither of them had the desire to go up to their dormitories.

For one of the first times in her life, Hermione felt utterly useless. She couldn't even look at Ron without immediately flashing back to an hour ago, when he'd lay completely still on the floor of McGonagall's giant chess set. And thinking of Ron's unconscious body only made her think of the state Harry must be in, fighting Snape on his own for the stone. She was here sitting by the fire, and he could be well on his way to death, or even worse, already dead...

_Dumbledore's down there with him, _she forced herself to remember shrewdly, _he can't possibly be hurt when Dumbledore's there_.

She chanced a glance at her other, safe, friend, sitting right next to her, but immediately regretted it as his still body swam into her vision once more, blocking out the common room. There she was, surrounded by broken bits of giant black and white rooks and pawns and various other chess pieces, shaking Ron furiously and shouting at him to wake up, nearly in tears. She'd just been screaming at him that Harry was going to die if he didn't awaken soon when his eyes had flickered open and she'd hurriedly removed her hands from his shoulders, wiping away the few lose drops of water on her cheeks. Ron had gazed up at her as if she was a mad woman before he'd burst out laughing at her beat read face, the noise stifling quickly when he reached up to take hold of his pounding head.

As soon as he'd regained his senses and remembered where they were, Hermione had quickly explained about the room with the potions and Harry going on alone, at which point she'd really burst in to tears and grabbed Ron in a fierce hug, sobbing that she'd thought they were all goners. Ron had tentatively hugged her back before speaking. "Er, Hermione, don't you think we ought to go get help, for Harry?"

"Oh you're r-right, I'm w-wasting time!" Hermione had responded, sobbing even harder. Ron had gotten up and held out his hand for her, which she'd taken gratefully and allowed him to pull her up. Together they'd run up the corridor, back to the room with the winged keys. Luckily Ron had realized she was in no fit state to ride a broomstick, because he'd let her jump on the same one as him, she playing the flute to calm Fluffy as he led them right out of the trapdoor.

They'd met Dumbledore as they were sprinting towards the Owlery, in order to contact the Professor himself, who was supposed to be in London. After simultaneously nodding their heads when asked "Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?"*, and Dumbledore had dashed off into the direction they'd come from, Ron had wanted to head straight back to the Gryffindor common room. But Hermione insisted they go to the hospital wing. He was still looking rather pale to her, not to mention the unfortunately large cut that was covered in dried blood above his forehead.

Madam Pomfrey had been none too pleased when they'd come knocking in the dead of night, only to find them looking as if they had been once again attacked by a mountain troll. A skewed version of what had actually happened below the trapdoor seemed to satisfy her enough, however, to cure their various bumps and bruises-some with a few short flicks of her wand, and some with a thick, oily, potion that made Hermione's skin sting. Afterwards she'd accompanied them up to the portrait hole, still muttering about "the trouble these kids get themselves in to," and, after casting the pair some final stern looks and informing them that Professor McGonagall would be made aware of their midnight wanderings, bade them goodnight.

And now here they were, staring at the fire and not talking to one another. Hermione quickly chastised herself for thinking of the whole ordeal yet _again_, and cast her stare away from Ron, instead looking at the spot where she'd cursed Neville. The spell must have worn off of him, because when her and Ron had returned, he'd already gone off to bed, as Ron informed her when he came back down from changing into his pajamas. Hermione pulled her robe tighter around her tiny body and hugged her knees to her chest, feeling almost like crying again.

"Do you think Harry is alright?" She made herself ask him eventually, not meeting his eyes. Even to her, her voice sounded weak and unconvincing, immediately betraying her own opinion on the matter.

"He'll be fine." Ron replied, far too gruffly. Clearly he shared her sentiments. She could feel his eyes, boring into her.

"I thought you weren't going to wake up," She whispered in the same feeble voice, staring into the fire. He didn't say anything. "It was really brave of you, you know, to sacrifice yourself like that."

There was a long pause, then, "Harry had to go on." Hermione found herself nodding, thoughts of Harry, defenseless against Snape, who was clutching the stone, lingering unpleasantly in her brain. But Dumbledore _had_ to have gotten there on time, he just _had_ to have had. They really wouldn't know until morning. It was far too risky to go dodging around the school again. If Harry had gotten out safely, Dumbledore was sure to have taken him to the hospital wing, and if he hadn't...well, she really tried not to think of the other options.

"You should go to bed, Hermione," Ron's voice, about as much like himself as her own, sounded out again. "We can go see Harry before breakfast tomorrow. That is, if Madam Pomfrey lets us in."

"_You_ aren't going to bed," Hermione said pointedly.

Ron shrugged, "Not tired."

"Neither am I!" She hissed testily.

Once again, Ron shrugged. "Suit yourself."

They quickly lapsed back to their former state of silence. Truthfully, Hermione _was_ pretty tired. She leaned her head against the back of her armchair and closed her eyes. A few minutes of rest couldn't hurt. It was better than sitting there worrying, anyway. Slowly she felt herself slipping, falling, falling...

* * *

She woke to the sound of rustling from nearby. For one wild moment she half-expected to see Fluffy leering over her, but when she flickered open her eyes, it was only Fred, George, and Lee, shaking a sleeping Ron beside her. "Whatsgoingon?" She said sleepily.

Lee Jordan answered. "Morning, Hermione! People'll be coming down for breakfast soon."

Fred and George had managed to shake Ron awake, and he was now staring groggily over at her, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's a good thing we got up early to try out some new products, or someone else could have found you down here...asleep...alone..." George said, holding up a new bag of Zonko's purchases.

"Wouldn't want people to talk." Fred added, winking at his younger brother. Ron's ears turned red almost instantly.

Ron and Hermione both jumped out of their armchairs and hurried off to their individual dormitories to change, Fred and George doing a sort of wolf-whistling behind them, while Lee laughed hysterically. By the time they had re-emerged, a few early-rising students were beginning to shuffle out of the portrait hall. They followed the crowd for a while before veering off in the direction of the hospital wing, rather than that of the Great Hall.

"I can't believe we fell asleep!" She burst out suddenly, leading a little ahead of Ron in her hurry to see what had become of Harry.

"Relax, Hermione," Ron said from behind her, doing a bit of a jog to catch up to her. "You fell asleep first," he added as an afterthought.

"Yes, well, it was only supposed to be a nap!"

Ron rolled his eyes as they came to a halt in front of the large wooden hospital wing doors. Hermione tentatively pushed them open, only to find Madam Pomfrey bustling over to them from a bed at the far end of the wing, covered by thick, blue curtains. "Of course it would be you two," She said rather stonily. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back during visiting hours. It's 7 o'clock, the boy needs sleep!"

"So Harry's here?" Ron asked gleefully. Hermione was straining her neck to try and see him behind the curtains.

"Yes of course he's here, where else would he be after going after that stone? Against a fully trained wizard none the less!"

"He's alright, isn't he?" Hermione said anxiously, stopping her straining to look up at the other witch.

"He'll be alright. With some _rest_," Madam Pomfrey replied firmly. They both knew it was pointless to argue, so they allowed themselves to be shooed away back into the corridor. Hermione, still rather panicky over Harry, had to be dragged back over to the Grand Staircase by Ron.

"We'll just go back and see him in a couple of hours. We can bring him some chocolate frogs too, Fred and George brought me back a box on their last trip to Hogsmeade. That'll cheer him up."

With Ron's reassurances, Hermione willingly agreed to accompany him to breakfast. The majority of the school seemed to be awake by now, and it was with some difficulty that they were able to find decent seats at the Gryffindor table. Luckily Dumbledore was sitting among the other teachers in his regular chair, looking far too happy for anything bad to have happened last night, as Hermione noted upon careful inspection. "Harry must have managed to get the stone!" She whispered over to Ron.

"Course he did," Ron said confidently. Hermione beamed at him.

It didn't take long for rumors to circulate at Hogwarts. By the end of breakfast the student body was buzzing, each story getting more complex and outrageous than the last. From the opposite side of the table, Seamus could be heard telling everyone around him, "I heard Harry had to fight a dragon!" Dean stared at him in awe, probably imagining Harry, glasses askew, brandishing his wand and throwing hexes at a gigantic black dragon, spitting fire. Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, _honestly_! A dragon? That was _months_ ago!" They both shuddered at the memory of Norbert.

"I don't know how Charlie does it," Ron said, staring down at his hand, which had been poisoned a while back by Hagrid's little 'pet.'

By the time they'd finished their toast and marmalade, students were practically swarming to the hospital wing, hoping to get a glimpse of Harry, sometimes dropping off sweets. Ron and Hermione seemed to have been left out of most of the circulating rumors, but every now and then someone would clap them on the back or congratulate them.

A while later, and after several more trips to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey finally allowed them to visit Harry for themselves. His account of Quirrell and what had been behind his turban actually made Hermione shriek. She couldn't believe it. The whole year they'd been all wrong, suspecting Snape, when he'd actually been trying to help them! When she voiced this to Ron on their way out, he actually laughed. "It still doesn't stop Snape from being a git. We got most everything else right, though, so I guess we didn't do too badly."

Hermione stared at him, taking in his brilliant hair and freckles, his eyes that crinkled at the edges whenever he smiled. She was very glad she had become friends with him. _We didn't do too badly at all_, she thought happily.

*quote taken from page 302 of the USA edition of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

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**A/N- **Again, thanks for reading! I'm quite pleased with this chapter actually, all things considered. Year one was a challenge for me to write, because it's my opinion that Ron and Hermione really were only friends at that point. Please take the time to review! I'd appreciate it immensely. Next week, Chamber of Secrets!


	3. Chapter 3: The Car

**A/N -** On to Chamber of Secrets! First off, I would just like to say a general thanks to those of you who have followed/favorited/reviewed this story... Your support means a lot to me! I've gotten over 500 views on this story and over 400 visitors, so thank you to all of you, too, for simply clicking on my story. (I'd love to hear what you think about it, so please, please review as well!) Secondly, I have discovered the line-that-seperates-sections button on FanFiction, and I'm way too excited about it. No more xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx or iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii lines for me!

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Ah, it's just so exciting! Anyway, I have gone back and fixed my makeshift lines with these spiffy ones in the first two chapters of this story.

This chapter is set during chapter five "The Whomping Willow" of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. That position belongs solely to Jo Rowling. **

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_Chapter 3: The Car_

It was September the first. She was supposed to be excited. She was supposed to be happy. Instead, Hermione Granger was peering out the window anxiously, shuffling around in her seat on the Hogwarts Express. Where could they possibly be? It was mere _minutes_ before eleven o'clock, the scarlet steam engine would be pulling out of the station at any time now, and her two best friends were nowhere in sight.

She'd specifically found a compartment in the back of the train, alone, where Harry and Ron could join her, and they could catch up properly. The three had really only had a few hours together all summer, that day in Diagon Alley, which had mostly been spent frantically running around to buy spellbooks and replenish their supplies for school. Although her and Ron had sent a few letters to one another, his were always disappointingly brief compared to her own lengthy updates and inquires. She had, of course, sent similar notes to Harry, but due to the house elf Dobby, who he'd told her about while shopping, she'd never gotten anything back from him at all. Hermione was dying to hear more about his summer with the Dursleys, and Ron's with _his_ family.

Finally she saw them, first Fred and George, then the rest of the Weasleys, emerging in ones and twos onto the platform. Hermione, however, noticed right away what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were now busy passing out sandwiches, didn't- Ron and Harry hadn't come through the barrier. Anxiety filled her once again while she pondered what could have happened to them.

Maybe they'd already gotten on the train, she'd simply missed them because she'd been so preoccupied watching the other Weasleys. That had to be it. But just as she was going to get up to go find them in the other compartments, the Hogwarts Express sounded out its bellowing horn, signaling it's departure, and Mrs. Weasley reluctantly released Ginny from her grasp, looking around for her youngest son-who wasn't there. "Where have Ron and Harry gone off to?" Hermione heard Ron's mum saying from the platform. She sighed, Harry and Ron wouldn't have gotten on board with out at least saying goodbye to Ron's parents. The train pulled away just after Ginny clambered on, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were left frantically searching the platform for the two boys Hermione wanted most to see.

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The trip to Hogsmeade station was unpleasant to say the least. Fred and George, whom Hermione hunted down sitting with Lee Jordan at the front of the train, had no idea where their younger brother had gone off to, though Fred joked that maybe he'd decided to take the family's flying car to school. This didn't make Hermione feel better in the slightest. Not wanting to sit alone, she'd wandered over to the compartment where the rest of her dormitory was seated.

Parvati Patil, her twin sister from Ravenclaw, Padma, and Lavender Brown were deep in conversation on whether or not a Hufflepuff girl in their year had cleared away her acne over the summer with magic.

"No way," Padma was saying, "The ministry would have found out for sure. Underage magic outside of school is illegal!"

"But there's no way her face could have cleared up on it's own," her sister argued, "Do you remember her last year?"

"Maybe she used a potion," Lavender chimed in. Hermione quickly made an excuse to leave, instead going to sit with Neville, whose greatest discussion topics were, thankfully, Herbology and his Gran, which at least she could sit through.

When they finally got to Hogwarts, however, Ron and Harry's absence was as prominent as ever. In the Great Hall, Snape, too, she realized, was gone from his usual chair. She took the seat next to Neville, watching only vaguely as the sorting hat sang it's opening song, different from the one she'd heard at her own sorting. The words, however, seemed to wash over her, she being too distracted to absorb them.

When the song came to an end, Professor McGonagall began calling each of the new student's names from a long scroll. Ginny Weasley, Hermione noted, was standing in the back of the group, looking exceptionally nervous. When her name was called, the sorting hat took only a minute to decide before calling out "Gryffindor". Fred, George, and Percy all clapped loudly as she walked over to join their table, beaming. "Yates, Jeremy" was sorted into Ravenclaw, and then it was over.

Dumbledore, dressed in sweeping amber robes, stood up to say a few words. "Welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! First of all, before we begin our grand feast, I would like to remind both first-years, and returning students, that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all."

There was a pause as he fixed the entire hall with his piercing stare. Although he wasn't looking directly at her, Hermione felt as if his eyes were upon her and her alone. From the serious looks of everyone around her, she figured they felt the same way.

"And now, on a much happier note," Dumbledore continued, his eyes now sparkling underneath his spectacles, "I would like to welcome a new addition the staff, Professor Lockhart, who will be replacing Professor Quirrell as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

As Lockhart stood and shined his white teeth at them, Hermione lost her concern for Harry and Ron altogether. She could almost feel herself melting at the Professor's wide smile, gleaming as he gave a small swoosh of his blue robes and a relish of his hand in acknowledgement of Dumbledore. When she thought of all the things he had done! She'd spent the better part of her last few days of holiday reading her new set of Lockhart books, and the man was inspiring. He'd done everything from saving an entire town from a werewolf, to banishing a menacing banshee while it was at it's peak. Hermione clapped far longer than necessary for the new professor, an action duplicated by nearly all of the girls in the hall.

"So without further ado," Dumbledore started again, as Lockhart took his seat, "Let the feast begin!" Food of every kind filled the golden platters along the length of the Gryffindor table. Hermione's zealousness at seeing Lockhart seemed to disappear upon the arrival of dinner. She took a bit of everything, but could hardly eat as worry for her friends filled her again, instead picking at her meal with the end of her fork and occasionally taking minuscule bites.

It seemed extremely unlikely, but the only conclusion she could come up with was that there had been too many muggles hanging around for the boys to be able to come quietly through the barrier. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were bound to have found them by now, if that was the case. Would the Hogwarts Express come back for them?

As Dean went on to Seamus and Neville about a football game he'd been to over the summer, Hermione noticed both McGonagall and Dumbledore walk out of the hall, following Snape, who had suddenly reemerged. They were looking rather stern. Snape on the other hand, appeared overcome with a glee rarely seen on his face. Twenty minutes later, however, when dessert was being served and the three Professors returned, Snape seemed just as solemn as the others, even furious-looking. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if this had anything to do with Harry and Ron. Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent an owl to the school?

She wasn't the only one who noticed. Students up and down the hall were gradually becoming aware of the lack of "that famous Harry Potter." A group of burly seventh years claimed to have heard Snape telling Flitwick during dessert how Harry had been expelled for crashing a car on school grounds. Fred and George apparently heard the same rumor, because minutes later that planted themselves across from Hermione, grinning.

"They really _did_ fly it," George said, sounding a bit envious.

"Who knew Ronnie had it in him?" Fred added.

"They can't possibly have flown the car," said Hermione, trying to convince herself more than the twins.

"Sure they could've, it isn't hard. Mum'll be furious..."

"...at someone other than us for once."

"He'll never be allowed out of the house again!"

They both got up and moved back over to their end of the table. Hermione finished her cake quietly.

* * *

By the time the feast was over, she was more concerned than ever. Percy stood up, ushering the new students towards the Gryffindor common room, and she lagged along from behind. But once he'd given out the password, and students were filing in through the portrait hole, Hermione decided to double back. She'd go to Professor McGonagall, tell her that Harry and Ron hadn't been on the train and she was just wondering what had happened to them. McGonagall had to know something by this point. Just as she was heading towards the direction of the professor's office, she saw them, Harry and Ron, walking slowly towards the Fat Lady. Hermione gasped and turned the corner, running up behind them and talking quickly, "_There_ you are! Where have you _been_? The most _ridiculous_ rumors-someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying _car_-" *

"Well we haven't been expelled," * said Harry, looking a bit guilty all the same.

"You're not telling me you _did_ fly here?" * She answered exasperatedly.

"Skip the lecture, and tell us the new password," * said Ron impatiently. Had he grown taller since their day in Diagon Alley? _Focus,_ Hermione thought furiously.

"It's 'wattlebird,'" she said, "but that's not the point-" *

The portrait hole had opened at her words, however, and she lost her chance to scold them any further as they were pulled in by a sea of Gryffindors, all of whom seemed thrilled that Harry and Ron had almost gotten killed. She was happy to see, at least, that Percy looked just as severe as she did. The boys seemed to notice this too, because they quickly whispered their goodbyes to her and ducked up the dormitory staircase.

* * *

"Hermione?"

The girl in question jumped at the noise, rearing her head around to see Ron emerging from the top of the boy's staircase. She'd been sitting in her favorite chair by the fire long after everyone else had finally gone to bed, still trying to process the fact that her two best friends had flown a _car_ to school. If they kept up like this, they were sure to be expelled. Hermione couldn't imagine a Hogwarts without Harry and Ron. now that she'd had a taste of true friendship, the thought of having to give it up was terrifying. It was this thought that caused her to snap at Ron's approaching figure. "What are you doing up? I figured you'd be tired from you little 'trip' today," she said scathingly.

"Er, still mad at us then?" said Ron nervously.

"Mad? _Mad? _I'm _furious_ Ron! You could have been killed! You're lucky you didn't get _expelled_! What were you _thinking_?"

"You're being a bit unfair, Hermione. You don't even know the whole story! See, the barrier was sealed shut. We had no choice, really, I mean, I suppose Harry could have sent Hedwig, but at the time-"

Hermione didn't let him finish. She sprang up from her seat and stomped over to him so that she was standing right in front of him, pointing a finger at him menacingly. Ron noticeably gulped.

As she looked up into his wide eyes, her hand slowly returned limply to her side, the angry words she had meant to scream at him leaking away. "I'm glad you're alright," she said hotly, marching past him and disappearing up to her own dormitory, eager to escape into her warm bed.

*quotes taken from page 84 of the USA edition of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

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**A/N- **Thanks for reading! I know this chapter is more trio-friendship-centric than specifically Ron/Hermione, but I thought up the little scene between the two at the end and I just had to write about it. I hope you enjoyed it!

On a different note, I have a question for those of you who may be more English language inclined than myself. I've always spelt alright like "alright" but lately I've been noticing it being spelt as "all right" all over the place. Is there a difference? Are both forms correct? Or have I been spelling this wrong my entire life? if you know the answer, I'd love to hear it!


	4. Chapter 4: A Furry Little Problem

**A/N**- I would just like to give a special thanks to _Master999_ who reviewed and pointed out a plot-related mistake in the last chapter. If you read the last chapter shortly after I posted, you read a line about the Weasley's trip to Egypt, which _Master999_ kindly reminded me happened in book 3, not book 2. I have since gone back and fixed this, so thank you for letting me know!

This chapter takes place during chapter 13 "The Very Secret Diary" of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

**Disclaimer_: _Jo Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own a computer and too much time on my hands. **

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Chapter Four: A Furry Little Problem

"Harry couldn't come," Ron said briskly, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's nightstand. "Wood's already started practices again. Harry says he's more determined than ever to win the cup this year."

The new term had started just a week before, when the rest of the students came pouring back into the castle, bursting with excitement from the holiday. Ron knew how upset Hermione had been when she realized her whiskers weren't going to go away in time for her to return to classes. As a result, he and Harry were alternately taking turns to copy an extra set of notes for her in their lessons.

"Did you _color-code_ these?" Hermione gasped, fingering through their work.

"Well that's how you like them isn't it?"

"Well...yes. But I didn't expect you to-oh never mind. Thank you, Ron."

He shrugged in what he hoped was an "it was nothing" way. On the contrary, it had actually taken him several hours of extra work to get the notes just the way she liked them. _She had better be pleased after I went through all of that_, he thought bitterly. Rather then voicing this, however, he simply said, "No problem. Harry refused to listen to Binns, though, even for you. So then I tried, but after five minutes I'd had enough of that to last me for the next five years."

He watched as she turned to the bit of parchment labeled as the History of Magic notes. On the top were carefully written bullet points on one of the goblin rebellions. About one quarter down the page, however, and the notes abruptly came to end, followed up only by scribbled games of knots and crosses and hangman. "But this looks really important!" She said, sounded far too disappointed, in Ron's opinion.

"Yeah I thought the same thing when I beat Harry in that third game," he responded, staring over her shoulder.

"I meant the _rebellion_, Ron. Honestly if you would just pay more attention you'd realize..."

"Skip the lecture, please, Hermione."

"Fine," she scoffed, returning all her books to the side table and lowering her voice. "Have you got any more leads then? You know, on who the heir is?"

Ron sighed. The truth was, they were about as close to figuring out who was the heir of Slytherin as he was at beating Hermione in the end-of-the-year exams. In other words, nowhere close at all. What upset him even more than this was that it was now definitely not Malfoy. Dreams of Malfoy getting expelled had been the main factor in his agreeing to use Polyjuice Potion in the first place. His apparent lack of knowledge on the subject, therefore, had come as a real blow.

"I'll take that as a no," said Hermione sympathetically, staring at him. "I'm sad it wasn't Malfoy as well, you know. But since it isn't, we've just got to move forward and try to solve it from another angle... It's a shame, really, I'd have loved to have caught Malfoy for something."

_She doesn't know the half of it_. Although he and Harry had told her at length of their hour in the Slytherin common room, they'd conveniently decided to leave out the bit where Malfoy had admitted he wanted her dead. _"I hope it's Granger" _had been ringing out around in Ron's ears ever since the polyjuice potion wore off. Before that day, he hadn't even considered _Hermione_ being taken away by the monster.

Yes, she was muggle-born, and the heir of Slytherin was targeting muggle-borns...he must have known all along, in some crevice of his mind, the possibility of something happening to her. The idea however, had never formulated itself in his brain, and now that it was creeping its way in, he didn't like it at all. The past week of classes without Hermione alone had felt strange, but if anything ever happened... The feeling was strongly reminiscent of last year, when he'd thought Harry was going to die trying to save the Sorcerer's Stone. Just the mere _thought_ of losing either one of his best friends completely terrified him.

"Ron are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh, er, sorry."

She shook her head at him. "I was _saying _that there has to be something we're missing, something we didn't see before. _Think_, who else at school would want to attack muggle-borns?"

"How am I supposed to know? You're the one who's good at this kind of thing, Hermione." He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw her blush slightly underneath the prominent layer of fur still covering her face. Though her eyes were slowly returning to their regular shade of brown, and both her whiskers and tail were receding, she still bore several distinctly cat-like features. Ron had made the mistake of laughing about this unfortunate fact on more than one occasion...Hermione still had yet to see the humor in the situation.

"So, erm, how are you feeling?" He asked hesitantly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed almost immediately. "If you're going to make fun of my-"

"I wasn't! Honestly, Hermione, I was only trying to make conversation!"

Their eyes locked upon one another, and for several minutes they simply stared. "Oh. Well, alright then," said Hermione finally. "In that case, I'm fine." There was a sizable pause, then, "I just hate being a cat! I hate missing classes and I hate being covered in fur and I hate trying to sleep with a tail and I hate having to sit around in bed all day waiting for you and Harry to come and visit me!" She said this all very fast, as if she'd been wanting to say it for days but hadn't quite been able to bring herself to do it. Ron noticed with dismay that she looked about ready to burst into tears.

For a second he was horribly reminded of the last time she had cried in front of him, trying to wake him up from McGonagall's giant chess game, and the time before that, before they were friends: Halloween. He didn't do well with criers. Ginny had never been weepy. In fact, the only time he could recall Ginny crying at all was when she was six and George had pushed her off her broomstick. The idea, therefore, of trying to comfort a crying Hermione, was unpleasant at best.

"Um, maybe I should leave...," He mumbled quietly. By now tears were silently following in a steady stream down each of Hermione's cheeks. At his words she wiped them away hurriedly with her hands and pulled her knees up to her chin, looking thoroughly miserable. Bloody hell, he shouldn't have said that. _She tells you she waits all day for you to come see her and then you decide to get up and leave! _He reprimanded himself. He really was stupid.

"I'm s-sorry," Hermione whispered, turning her tear-streaked face towards him, "I'm being silly. You can g-go if you want to."

Ron wished Harry were there. Harry would have had the sense to pull him up and they'd have left right then and there, informing Hermione that they'd come back to see her the next day, when she had calmed down. But he couldn't leave her now! No, against all his internal wishes, he'd have to stay put. "I only meant...well...Of course I'll stay, I just..." He fell silent, at a loss for words.

Hermione was no longer looking at him, but running her fingers through the fur on her arm. "I just f-feel really u-ugly," she sniffed.

"You're not ugly," He responded immediately. He'd said it without thinking, but after considering what it could imply, immediately wanted to take back the words. "_No one_ thinks you're ugly," He barreled on quickly. "Don't worry, Hermione, Madam Pomfrey will get you back to normal sooner or later."

This apparently wasn't the right thing to say, because Hermione burst into a fresh wave of tears: the exact opposite of what he'd meant his statement to do. "But what if it's l-later?" She wailed.

Ron shrugged. "Then you'll have to walk around as a cat for a while. People would probably think it's really cool, actually...like you were on your way to becoming like McGonagall and turning into a cat whenever you pleased. You'd be the talk of the school, Hermione!"

In a wonderful twist of events, the ends of Hermione's mouth tugged into a smile. "I probably already am the talk of the school," she said sadly. Ron knew she was referring to all the students who had tried to catch a glimpse of her in the hospital wing at the start of term, thinking she'd been petrified. Eventually Madam Pomfrey had pulled up thick blue curtains around her bed to save her the embarrassment, but the damage had already been done. The entire school had gotten word that a second year had turned herself into a human cat.

"They got bored of it after a couple of days," said Ron reassuringly. "Malfoy still finds it ridiculously funny, but he's always been a git."

At that moment, a frazzled looking Madam Pomfrey came hurrying around the curtains, stopping short upon seeing Hermione's blotchy face and Ron sitting next to her bed. "Ah, Mr. Weasley, you're still here," She said, composing herself. "You best be getting back to your dormitory, it's almost curfew. Besides, Ms. Granger needs her rest if she wants to be back to her old self by February." She left a potion on the side table for Hermione and bustled out again.

"February?"

"That's when Madam Pomfrey thinks I'll be normal again," Hermione muttered, looking downcast.

"That's not far away at all, Hermione! Don't worry, Harry and I'll keep taking notes for you. That way you'll still be better than the rest of us when you come back."

She grinned, and he pushed back his chair and stood up. "Ron?" came Hermione's voice.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

**A/N**- General reminder that I feed off of reviews! :)


	5. Chapter 5: Hogsmeade

**A/N**- Hey everyone! I'm really sorry for the week delay on this chapter... my past few weeks have been pretty crazy. For school I actually had to right an apologia on a piece of literature that has affected my life, so I of course did Potter... my teacher wrote on my paper "Harry Potter apologias are cliche!" SIGH! It's not my fault Harry Potter has affected a lot of people. She did, however, say that mine was very sincere and moving, so I guess that counts for something. BUT I DIGRESS. To make it up to you I'm posting this chapter instead of Saturday or Sunday (small consolation, I know.) Thank you to everyone who's still sticking with my story... we're on to Prisoner of Azkaban!

On a completely different irrelevant topic... who saw Emma on the late show? Her dancing skills reaffirmed to me that we need to be best friends. I'm absolutely ecstatic about_ Perks _coming out in a week.. it's definitely one of my all time favorite books and having Emma in it is an added bonus! Now I just need some Rupert interviews to happen or a Potter cast reunion (long overdue, in my opinion) to cheer me up some more.

This chapter takes place during Chapter 8, The Flight of the Fat Lady, of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

**DISCLAIMER: **I DO NOT own Harry Potter... Only JK Rowling has the pride of saying that it's hers.

* * *

_chapter five: Hogsmeade_

"Hermione, hurry up!"

At the sudden noise Hermione jumped and tore her eyes away from Harry's retreating figure. He had been casual enough on the way down to the entrance hall, but Hermione knew he mustn't be feeling very fine. Obviously she wished he could come into the village with her and Ron, but given the situation with Sirius Black...really it was better if he stayed behind, especially on top of the fact that his permission form wasn't signed. And there was always the Halloween feast later, and they'd bring him back loads of stuff... _Stop thinking about Harry, _she whispered to herself. This wasn't the time to worry about him. She'd been looking forward to going to Hogsmeade ever since reading about it first year, and she deserved to enjoy it!

"On my way!" She called back, jogging to catch up to Ron on the path to the village.

"He'll be fine. Harry, I mean," he said, once she'd caught up to him. How was it that he knew she'd been worrying about him? Lately she'd been noticing how he was getting better at reading her moods. He was still completely oblivious most of the time, of course... that was just how Ron was. Every now and then, however, he did something that made her have a bit more faith in his abilities. Just the other night he'd come bounding into the common room just as she was putting the finishing touches on Professor Snape's essay, and instead of interrupting her, and, like always, forcing her to lose her train of thought, he'd sat down and waited for her to talk to him first. Apparently this was another one of those times.

With a jolt she noticed he was still staring at her expectantly. "Right. Of course he will," she said in response to his earlier statement. He was right, too, Harry would manage.

* * *

They were nearing Hogsmeade now, as Hermione could see the buildings, growing ever closer as they drew near them. It was like a smaller version of Diagon Alley. A long row of shops extended far back, and signs pointed in every direction, trying to attract customers into their store. The older Hogswarts students dispersed immediately, whispers of going for a butterbeer or buying Zonko's products following in their wake. The third years, on the other hand, remained on the edge of the village, mesmerized. It seemed no one knew where to go first.

"Want to go to Honeydukes?" Ron suggested finally, breaking up her thoughts. He was pointing to one of the nearest cottage-like shops, its windows laden full of sweets unlike anything she'd seen before. She gave a nod of consent and they hurried inside. Row upon row was layered with everything from sugar quills to sugar mice. She even caught a glimpse of a crate labeled "cockroach clusters" in the far corner. Ron had already headed straight for a large barrel of chocolate frogs. "Which one do you think is lucky?" He said, gesturing towards each individually wrapped frog, "I'm trying to finish my collection."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Ron's dedication to his chocolate frog card collection rivaled his obsession with the Chudley Cannons. All the same she plucked one of the packages out of the barrel and held it out to him. "We better get some for Harry, too," She said, moving over to the shelves. They spent a better part of an hour skimming over all their options, and left the shop with a large bag filled with sweets.

Ron immediately dig out his chocolate frog and opened it with a flourish. "Ugh, Dumbledore a_gain_," he moaned at the sight of the card. "You should have it, Hermione," he told her, recovering from the initial disappoint. "You know, in case you ever forget who Nicholas Flammel is..."

"Like that'll happen," she replied sarcastically looking up to meet his eyes, he was grinning at her. It was the same grin she'd seen countless times before, but this time it felt different. It wasn't a grin in exchange for her finishing his homework, or because they were reuniting after she'd been petrified for months, it was just a grin because he was having a good time. A good time with _her. _Her heart did a odd sort of flutter and she actually _blushed_. Immediately Hermione snatched the card from his hand and looked away, pulling her sweater around herself tightly and hoping he thought the chill in the air was what was making her cheeks rosy.

She shouldn't be blushing for _Ron_. Ron was her best friend. She'd never even thought for a second of them being anything _but_ friends. Best friends at the most. Lavender and Parvati were always going on about their latest crushes in the girls' dormitory, but she stayed out of the conversations. Needless to say she had more practical things to do then fawn over various guys for a week at a time. At the start of term Parvati had spent a good hour going on about how cute Harry was. She'd been so embarrassed by it that she'd have gotten up and left...if it hadn't been nearing midnight. And the next morning she couldn't even look at Harry without wanting to burst out laughing at the voice inside her head, echoing out Parvati's words on his "vibrant personality."

No, the only person she'd ever fancied, or rather, longingly admired, before had been Lockhart... and that had turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of her life. He had turned out to be such a phony that after that she'd sworn to herself she'd come to her senses. Of course that had been last year... before Ron had let his hair grow out longer and he'd spent the summer writing to her from Egypt and his eyes had gained that sparkle, or had it always been there and she'd never realized?... _Shoot! What was she doing?_

Quickly Hermione thought back to all the romantic films she'd seen with her parents, and all the fairytales she'd been read as a child. She certainly wasn't naïve enough to believe life was a fairytale. Her parents, for example, had gotten into a fair few very nasty fights. But she also knew that her Dad sometimes surprised her Mum with flowers, and they'd laugh for hours about a joke they'd keep repeating to one another, and they'd kiss every night when they got home from fixing people's teeth. Doing any of that with, well, _Ron_, seemed utterly absurd. She was even shuddering at the thought.

Hermione chanced a glance at him again. He was rambling on now about Zonko's and leading her towards the shop. She nodded occasionally to make it seem like she was listening, suddenly feeling awkward next to him, subconscious. Merlin's beard this couldn't be happening. _Ron_? Out of all the boys at Hogwarts her mind had had to settle for one of her two friends. This had to be some bizarre passing phase, like Lockhart had been. She was sure of that. Even now, the rational part of her mind was telling herself that fancying Ron was perhaps the most ludicrous thing she'd ever done. But yet her heart was still stupidly _fluttering. _She couldn't bear the thought of ruining their friendship just because of her fleeting hormones. She'd have to control herself.

"Do you want to go the Shrieking Shack?" She managed to ask, following slightly behind him as they left the joke shop. He shrugged.

"Yeah sure. Then we can go to The Three Broomsticks... Fred and George swear by butterbeer."

They set off towards the patch of land leading up to an overlook of the Shrieking Shack. The crumbling structure looked forlorn even from a distance, its windows boarded up and an eerie sort of feel seeping out of it. She couldn't help it, she shuddered.

Ron, unfortunately, noticed. "You can't be scared of an _old house_, Hermione?!"

"Says the boy who can't be within a four inch radius of a _spider_," she shot back. "Besides there's all kinds of stories about the Shrieking Shack. I've read all about it, and it's said to be the most haunted dwelling in Britain. The villagers have seen all kinds of things..." She went on, reciting all the things she could remember about the shack, all the while knowing Ron didn't care in the slightest. It was a nervous habit of hers, to ramble, and the thought of having _feelings_ towards Ron was certainly making her nervous.

"Alright, Hermione, I get it. Sorry I made fun of you fear." _God I'm ruining our friendship already_, she thought bitterly. Ron wasn't upset, however, but laughing and shaking his head, looking from the shack to her and back again. Before she knew it she was laughing as well, dashing back up the path to go check out The Three Broomsticks.

"Laugh about the spiders all you want, Hermione, but they're devious. They're minds work in twisted ways!" Ron called from behind her. Hermione only laughed harder.

"I don't think spiders have got minds Ron."

"Clearly you've never met Aragog."

She reached the door first and pulled it open. The place was packed with Hogwarts students, but they were able to find a seat in the corner. A curvy and very pretty bartender who introduced herself as Madam Rosmerta came over to their table, and Ron immediately ordered two butterbeers, talking far too quickly, his eyes filled with an almost glazed look about them. By the time she'd returned with their drinks his ears had gone red. Of course he'd fancy _the bartender. _Hermione tried for it not to, but her mood lessened greatly as she watched the woman move on to some other customer, distaste for her already growing.

The butterbeer warmed her up instantly. It was unlike anything she'd ever drank before, and something about it was very calming. "We've got to go back soon," Ron said, sipping his drink. _Right. _Back to Hogwarts, where Harry had been all this time, probably sitting in the common room, staring at his homework and knowing he should do it, but instead thinking about all he was missing out on... All of sudden she felt horrible.

"Harry's fine, Hermione." There he was again, Ron, somehow knowing what she was thinking. "Next time we can sneak him in, there has to be some way."

Hermione let out a gasp. "Ron! I can't believe you'd say that! With Sirius Black on the lose! Harry is safer at school, McGonagall said it herself."

"What's life without a little risk Hermione?"

"You won't have a life, you'll _die_ because you acted stupid by taking a risk in the first place!"

"Fine! we won't sneak him out then!" He snapped.

"Good," she said simply. "Come on, we should start heading back. We don't want to miss the feast."

With another not-so-sly look back at Rosmerta, Ron got up and lead the way out. She wondered if he realized this was the two year anniversary of their friendship. Two years since the troll in the bathroom. He probably hadn't even thought about, he wasn't really all that sentimental, yet it was the only thing _she_ could think about on the trek back to the school. Where would they be in another two years? For a moment her mind wandered to holding hands and frequent kissing... She really _was_ mental.

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**A/N**- Reviews are much appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: Tested Friendships

**A/N- **So basically I have no excuse for the late update except for the fact that I had a bit of writer's block on how to go about doing this chapter and I am really, really sorry. So, early Thursday update this week. (and I say this very very loosely because I always seem to break my deadlines, but I'm PLANNING on getting another chapter up by Sunday to make it up to you.

Congrats to Jo for _The Casual Vacancy_ taking the #1 spot on the New York Bestseller's list!

This chapter takes place during Chapter 15, "The Quidditch Final" of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. _Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER**- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. If you don't know that by now you must be living under a rock.

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_chapter six: tested friendships_

The longer she stared at them, the more the words of Hermione's Ancient Runes book seemed to blur. She was trying her best to finish off her homework translations, but to no avail. It was, after all, very hard to concentrate when all she could think about was how stupid she was. For one thing, she shouldn't have taken up so many classes. Her steadily increasing workload was so overwhelming that even the pride she usually felt when completing an essay or doing particularly well on an assignment had lost its appeal, replaced only by gratitude that she was finally able to go to bed. Even then, the tight schedule set out by the time-turner prevented her from getting anything more than a few hours of sleep, and as a result she felt permanently tired.

Of course, in a sort of twisted way, Hermione was happy that she had so much work to do, as it was usually enough to distract from her more pressing issues, like the fact that she had lost both her friends in less than a day. Originally Harry and Ron had been only been mad that she'd reported to McGonagall about the Firebolt... which was something she could deal with. It was better to have them mad at her than for Harry to get hurt from a jinxed broomstick... or at least that's what she'd told herself. She'd still been lonely, of course, but nothing compared to how she felt now. Then, at least, she had known that they would eventually come around, especially after Harry had been given his Firebolt back. And she had been right, last night they'd been perfectly willing to apologize. But then Scabbers had gone missing and everything had spiraled out of control. After losing her temper at Harry about it that morning, it seemed unlikely that he'd be talking to her anytime in the near future, and Ron seemed so upset that she doubted he'd _ever_ be speaking to her.

_Ron_. His name seemed to hang in the air around her. She had been stupid for fancying him in the first place... but she was being even more ridiculous by still fancying him now. She was furious with him, so shouldn't her feelings for him have disappeared completely? Instead they seemed to have only escalated until he was all she could think about. He had had no right to accuse Crookshanks of anything while there was no proof her cat had done anything wrong. Just because he had hated Crookshanks since day one didn't give him the right to point fingers at the animal as soon as something bad happened to his rat. While deep down Hermione knew that Crookshanks probably _had_ eaten Scabbers, there was no way she would give Ron the satisfaction of her apologizing. By doing this, however, she was left thoroughly miserable.

From the little she managed to get out of Ginny, she'd gathered that Ron was taking the loss of Scabbers very hard. This fact only escalated her already present unhappiness. While he had always complained about the rat, Hermione knew that Ron had cared about Scabbers a lot more than he let on. She had never felt so guilty in her life, and she hadn't even done anything except buy a cat that was perhaps a little too enthusiastic over rats. Merlin's beard, she just wanted to talk to him again!

But that was out of the question. Completely out of the question. Just because she was feeling lonely didn't mean she had to give up completely and apologize when _he_ was the one who was being an idiot. With a sigh, she returned to her schoolwork, preparing to block out everything that could remind her of Ron and finally _focus,_ when she heard footsteps coming down from the boys' dormitory above.

Low and behold, it was _him_, wearing his too short pajamas and not looking at all surprised to see her still up. Hermione immediately began throwing her books back into her bag and calculating the quickest way out of the room and up to her dormitory. "Goodnight Ron," she whispered, pulling her bag onto her shoulder and cutting across the common room past him, purposefully avoiding his eyes.

"Hermione," he said curtly from behind her. As if his voice was magnetic, she instantly swiveled back around. Ron was not looking at her, instead staring determinedly at the far wall. It looked very much like he was he straining to draw up strong enough words to say to her. _Probably more snide comments about Crookshanks and Scabbers_, she thought angrily. All he managed to say, however, was "Goodnight."

* * *

She had _failed_. Hermione couldn't believe it. Even after all the books she'd read and all the notes she'd copied down on anything that might help Hagrid, he still hadn't won his case. Her hands trembled as she once again read through the smeared letter he'd sent her that morning. _"Execution date to be fixed"*... _It was as if the line was mocking her, shouting at her that she'd failed not only herself but Hagrid and Buckbeak as well. Large splotches covered the parchment from Hagrid's tears. Never in her life had she felt more miserable.

Ever since Ron and Harry had stopped talking to her, she'd been going down to see Hagrid more and more often. Just recently, the evening after Sirius Black had snuck into the common room and attacked Ron, she'd arrived crying on his doorstep, and he'd just fixed her some tea and, thoughtful, though albeit horrible, rockcakes. After all Hagrid had done for her she couldn't even return the favor. It was like receiving an F on an exam, except worse, because it affected more people than just her.

What was she supposed to do now? There would be an appeal... there was always an appeal... but she couldn't really see anything changing as long as Lucius Malfoy had his say. The entire situation was rotten. She'd keep researching, obviously, even if it was all in vain, even if there wasn't the slightest chance Buckbeak could be saved. And she'd go down to Hagrid's as soon as possible and see if he was alright.

Another thought creeped its way into her mind. _Harry and Ron_. They'd want to know Hagrid had lost, that Buckbeak was going to die. Granted, neither one of them had helped him out themselves... but they_ had_ to still care. With a sigh Hermione rolled her books back into her bag and rubbed furiously at her wet eyes, standing up. She would have to tell them. Only after shuffling out into the corridor did she remember that it was a Hogsmeade weekend. Students were piling up the staircases, all returning from the village carrying bags filled with their purchases. She hadn't gone to Hogsmeade herself since the day Harry had gotten the Marauder's Map. It seemed pointless, really, to go without him or Ron, and besides, she couldn't afford to waste any time that could otherwise be spent doing homework.

But Ron would have gone, and Harry too, probably. She'd _told_ them, _warned_ them he shouldn't be sneaking out again... what with Black on the lose... he'd already snuck into he school once... but of course they most likely didn't listen. Despite what she'd threatened, she knew she could never tell on them. If either one of them got into any _more_ trouble... _Boys_.

Turning the corner, she saw them, walking side by side and looking thoroughly upset. She could feel herself trembling. This was it. She'd tell them and then she'd walk away, that's all she needed to do. No need to apologize, at least not from _her_ end. Ron made a snide comment when she stopped in front of them, but it seemed to wash over her. With a shaking hand, she held out the letter and told them about the hippogriff's scheduled execution, trying to keep it together, half expecting them to yell at her that she hadn't done enough, to tell her what she already knew, how badly she must have disappointed Hagrid and Buckbeak.

Except for they didn't seem mad at _her_. Harry's face was dropping in anger as he read the letter, and both of them seemed outraged at the Committee who'd worked on the trail. In their shock they appeared to have forgotten they were mad at her at all. Hermione could feel her eyes being blurred by tears once again. "They'll be an appeal, there always is," she whispered miserably to the pair of them, "Only I can't see any hope... Nothing will have changed."*

"Yeah, it will," said Ron suddenly. She looked up at him, praying to keep her emotions in check. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help."*

That was all it took for her to completely fall apart and fling her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He didn't do anything but pat her on top of the head, but it didn't matter... he was back to be Ron. _Her_ Ron. She could call them _both_ her friends again.

"Ron, I'm really, really, sorry about Scabbers,"* she weeped, pulling away. _So much for not apologizing_. Then again, she'd really meant it, she hadn't just said it to get him to talk to her again. She'd been sincere just like she knew he was sincere when he said he'd help her. That was all that really mattered.

"Oh-well-he was old," Ron finished weakly, staring at her a bit funny. She looked between him and Harry, and managed to give them a watery smile. A whole lot more seemed possible when you had friends on your side... and when those friends were Ron and Harry, well, maybe Buckbeak would be saved after all.

*quotes taken from page 291-292 of the USA edition of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

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**A/N****_-_**Not to beg, but PLEASE leave a review. (Okay so I guess to beg.)


	7. Chapter 7: Time

**A/N- **To say that I'm sorry that I've been on such a(n, erm, long) hiatus would be an understatement. Unfortunately, however, school comes first and recently I've had a lot of writing ( and other work) to do in that area... and not the fun kind of writing/work. Sigh. As such, I haven't had time to write just for my pleasure :( so thank Thanksgiving Break for this chapter! I'm not sure when I'll be able to get the next one up but trust me it will be as soon as possible!

This chapter is set during chapter 22, "Owl Post Again" of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. _Enjoy (and if you're so kind leave me a review...pretty please)! Side note: i apologize for the short length of this chapter, it's just how it ended up. Next chapter (Goblet of Fire, yay!) will be longer.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own NO part of Harry Potter and his world, all of which DO belong to the lovely and talented JK Rowling.

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Chapter Seven: Time

A _time-turner_. He'd spent the entire year wondering, theorizing, and that was the answer. A time-turner. Of course, it had only taken a trip down the Shrieking Shack, resulting in severe damage to his leg and the sudden need to rescue a man they'd, up until a few short hours before, had been sure was out to kill them, for Hermione to fess up about it. Ever since he'd woken up in a state of total confusion, and she'd relayed the entire story of what had happened since Snape had dropped them off at the hospital wing, he'd been sitting in bed, going over it all again and again in his head.

Pettigrew had escaped. Harry had fought off a swarm of dementors with a patronus. He'd thought it was his dad but it was actually him all along. Sirius had been doomed to receive the dementors' soul-sucking kiss. Hermione and Harry had rescued him using the time-turner. Buckbeak was safe too.

He would never tell either of them, because he knew he should be completely filled with relief at Sirius' survival, and he was being petty, but he wished he could have gone with them and helped to save Sirius. Obviously they hadn't exactly had the time of their lives running from a werewolf and waiting for the moment to break Sirius out of the tower he was locked up in, but the thought of Harry and Hermione going on an adventure without him was strange. He wondered if it had felt like that last year for Hermione, when she'd been petrified and missed going down to the Chamber of Secrets. Regardless, he was trying not to think about it too much... and blimey, his leg hurt!

Madam Pomfrey had fixed it up for the most part, but it still throbbed, and the potion she'd given him for pain didn't seem to be working. Ron wasn't sure whether it was this or his crowded thoughts that was keeping him awake. Across from him, Harry and Hermione appeared to be sleeping quite alright in _their_ beds. According to Pomfrey, they'd all be allowed to leave the hospital wing tomorrow. If only he could get some sleep... With a heavy sigh, Ron slumped back against his pillows and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Ron?"

It took all Ron had not to let out a yelp at the sudden whisper as he sat up and fumbled around clumsily for his wand. The hospital wing was still dark, he couldn't have been asleep for more than a hour. Standing over him, hardly visible to his eyes as they adjusted to the darkness, was Hermione. She was wrapped up in her nightgown, and her bushy hair seemed even crazier after having been sprawled across her pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He whispered back hastily, glancing over to the door that separated them from Madam Pomfrey.

She shrugged. Shaking his head, Ron sat up fully against his headboard and moved his legs so she could sit down on the edge of his bed. Across from them, Harry was still lying deep in sleep. "You alright?" he asked finally, watching as Hermione curled her legs up like a pretzel.

"I'm good." She was eying him strangely again. It was a look he'd noticed her giving quite a lot lately... when her eyes would glaze over for a minute or two and she'd just look at him in a funny short of way. "How's your leg?" she asked, when the moment had passed, "It looked awfully painful..."

"It was just a scratch," Ron answered, with a shrug of his own.

"Then why aren't _you_ asleep?"

"Well, okay, maybe it hurts _a bit... _but-hey! Why are you laughing at me?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd admit it," Hermione grinned. "I knew it must hurt, or else you wouldn't have been rustling around so much over here all night. Your groaning is all I've been hearing for the past _hour_." She laughed again, but then seemed to realize the situation and drew silent almost immediately. "I mean... well of course I'm not happy you got hurt..."

"I don't really think I've been _groaning...,_" Ron retorted. Hermione's blush was visible even through the darkness.

"If only Pettigrew hadn't have gotten away..."

"Ah, well, you can't do everything. But given how many classes you took this year, _at the same time_, you seem to think differently."

"For goodness sakes Ron! I already _told _you, I would have said something about the time-turner ages ago, only I _swore_ to McGonagall I'd keep quiet. They can be quite dangerous, time-turners. If you meddle with time-"

"Okay okay, I get it. Sorry."

"Well...good!"

Ron shifted his leg into a more comfortable position and rubbed his eyes, which were still tired. If it had been Harry who had woken him up he would have just rolled over and snapped at him to go back to bed...but it wasn't as if he could do that to _Hermione_. "So are you ready for the end of term?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose so. It'll be lovely to see my parents again, of course." She paused and gestured around the room, "It's just, being back home is strange after all this. I mean how do I explain to them that I spent the year trying to protect one of my best friends from being killed by a murderer out to get him, who turned out to be his godfather and actually not out to get him at all? Not to mention that your pet rat turned out to be responsible for the death of Harry's parents and we all almost got our souls sucked out by a pack of angry dementors. They'd never let me come back to school if I told them all of that! They don't really understand magic, see, so I never know how much to tell them. Does that make me crazy, Ron? That I'm away from my parents for an entire year and when I get to see them again I can barely think of anything to even say to them?"

Ron thought about it. "Nah, I wouldn't know what to talk to my parents about either, if they didn't get magic. Just tell them about the stuff that doesn't have to do with Sirius...like how you aced all your exams and got over 100% in all your lessons and bought a demonic cat..."

"_Ron!_" Hermione hissed.

"What? I was only joking! Cheer up, at least you won't be bombarded with questions. _My _mum and dad will want to know all about Sirius' escape. Snape told Fudge that we went after him, didn't he, that we thought we could catch him "single handedly"? Mum'll be furious with me. And it's not exactly like I can go and tell them that Sirius is innocent, can I? I haven't got any proof to back it up, and the _Prophet_ will have printed Snape's version... I'd probably only be in _more_ trouble."

"You don't think they'll be _too_ upset with you though, do you?" She sounded concerned.

"Can't say. You never know... they might pull me out of school... force me to live without magic... ban me from the Burrow..." Hermione slapped him hard in the arm. Ron laughed.

"Nah. I'll just remind Mum of all the horrible stuff Fred and George have done and they'll forget about it soon enough."

"You're lucky you've got so many siblings."

Ron shrugged, "I guess. But what we're _both_ lucky for is that we haven't got cousins like Dudley." Together they craned their necks to see across to Harry. Hermione nodded vigorously. No doubt, Harry had it the worst. "Maybe Mum'll let you two come to my place this summer. The Quidditch World cup is in Great Britain this year, and Dad can probably get us tickets from work. I mean, you know, only if you want to come..."

Hermione was beaming at him. "I'd like that. Holy cricket!" She had looked down and was reading her wristwatch through the darkness, "We have to get up soon! I better go back to sleep..."

"Can't you just, er, _rewind time, _to get a few more hours kip?" He asked in response, smiling innocently.

Hermione jumped up and grabbed the pillow from the bed next door to throw at him. "Oh shove off Ron!"


	8. Chapter 8: A New Home

**_A/N-_**As always, sorry for the delay. But you can pretty much bet that another chapter will be up fairly quickly... I'm on Winter Break. Speaking of which, I hope all of you had a lovely Christmas (or a lovely whatever-holiday-you-celebrate). A got a new Harry Potter calendar, so I'm all set!

And finally, we're on to _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_! This chapter takes place during Chapter Three: "The Invitation". Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: **In no way, shape, or form do I own any smidgen of Harry Potter.

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chapter eight: A New Home

"Mum, calm down, I've already packed! I packed _yesterday_, remember?" Hermione shook her head and carried her bags into the sitting room, tossing them on the sofa. Ron had owled her that they'd be there at noon, and it was already half past eleven.

" I know, dear, but I was just making sure. You don't want to keep Ron's family waiting, especially when they were so kind as to come and get you. Not to mention that they're letting you stay with them until the new term starts, and taking you to this quadritch thing-"

"Quidditch. It's called quidditch," corrected Hermione instantaneously, laughing to herself at what Harry and Ron would do if they heard it pronounced "quadritch".

"Right, well regardless it's nice of them to take you. You'll thank them, won't you?"

"Of course, Mum! It's not like this is the first time I've left the house!" Her mother narrowed her eyes dangerously. "...Sorry. I just meant, I don't know why you're worrying so much. I'll be fine, promise."

There was a pause before Hermione was caught off guard by a tight hug from her mother. "You're right, I'm being silly. I just get nervous, I don't see you very often and...," She trailed off, "Well I'll just run and get your father then, I think he's still upstairs debating what T-shirt will intimidate Ron the most..."

Hermione sat down as her mum left the room. If her dad was going to be so obnoxious...well it's not like she hadn't been expecting it. Ever since she'd gotten the invitation to stay at the Weasley's her father had been against it, asking her a million questions about Ron and their "relationship". No matter how many times she _insisted_ they were just friends, and Harry would be there too, he just couldn't see reason.

Just then there was a burst from the fireplace and Mr. Weasley appeared, followed shortly by Ron's brothers, Fred and George. Hermione couldn't help herself, she peered around them and stared at the flames, waiting for Ron, who was taking far too long to arrive... Mr. Weasley seemed to read her mind. "Molly's making Ron clean his room up." He beamed and looked around, clearly fascinated by the television near the window.

"I'll go call my parents, I don't think they heard you arrive," Hermione said, trying to hide her disappointment. She was being stupid, she'd see Ron in ten minutes, it shouldn't matter that he couldn't come pick her up.

She found her Mum and Dad on their way down the stairs. "The Weasley's are here."

* * *

When they got back to the living room Mr. Weasley was on his knees examining the plug to the lamp. "Ah," he said cheerfully, standing up and holding out his hand to Hermione's parents, "Arthur Weasley. So good to see you again."

"So which one of you is Ron?" Hermione's father chimed in, looking past Mr. Weasley to Fred and George. Even after his wife elbowed him in the arm and sent him a look, his stern gaze remained.

"Ron couldn't make it, Dad," Hermione said quickly. "These are his brothers, Fred and George."

"Yes indeed," Mr. Weasley added, before Fred or George could comment. "Well I hate to take your daughter away from you so soon, but we better be heading back. I could only arrange with the ministry for your fireplace to be connected to the floo network until half past twelve. Besides, Molly's fixing lunch as we speak!"

"It's not a problem. Hermione's been looking forward to staying with you ever since Ron sent her the invitation. It's all she can talk about lately!"

They talked for several more minutes, Hermione's father standing stonily beside them. It wasn't until Mr. Weasley began talking animatedly about his plug collection that Fred and George reminded him of lunch and he reluctantly pulled out the bag of floo powder.

After very lengthy goodbyes, the twins left with her bags and school trunk, and after even more hugs from her parents, finally she, too, escaped into the green flames of the fire. Of all the ways to travel, floo powder was at the bottom of Hermione's list. She'd only tried it once before, but this go around was not better in the slightest. No matter how careful she was to tuck in her arms, somehow her elbows still got scratched upon the brick of the fireplace, and so much soot fell in to hair that she doubted whether she'd be able to get it all out after even _ten_ showers. Just as she was contemplating this, the short trip ended, and she found herself staggering out of the Weasley fireplace and into a sitting room far different from her own.

Fred and George had disappeared and left her bags on the couch, next to a pair of needles that were, quite on their own, knitting what appeared to be a scarf. The room itself was messy in the way that was inviting-cluttered, but not dirty. An old radio rested in the corner, next to a bookshelf filled with cookbooks and, to Hermione's amusement, Gilderoy Lockhart's complete collection, which seemed to be collecting dust on the bottom shelf. Squashed in between the sofa and a large and rather comfortable looking rocker was a wooden side table crammed full of moving photographs, all resting in mismatched and old-fashioned picture frames. Above the table, on the wall, was a framed newspaper clipping of the family in Egypt.

Hermione's eyes fell upon a picture in the front, one of six young boys laughing as they rolled around in the grass. She could pick out Ron almost immediately, the smallest of the bunch, looking to be no older than five, laughing heartily in the arms of who she assumed to be either Bill or Charlie. Next to it was larger photo of Ron when he was eleven, grinning proudly and holding up his Hogwarts acceptance letter as Ginny looked on in excitement.

"Fred and George had me convinced I was a squib, the gits."

Hermione jumped a foot in the air in surprise and wheeled around to face the present-day Ron, who was laughing at her shock. There was a burst of green from the fireplace and Mr. Weasley emerged, dusting himself off with one hand and pouring the extra floo powder into a bowl on the mantle with the other. "Make yourself at home, Hermione. I better go see if Molly needs helps with the sandwiches..."

"Come on, I'll show you around," said Ron, gesturing to Hermione. She followed him out of the room and into the kitchen behind Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was at the counter arranging sandwiches on a large platter.

"Good, you're back. I was beginning to worry. Oh, Hermione! How are you dear? Hungry? You're looking so thin...well, I'm almost done with lunch, it'll just be a few more minutes... Ron can show you Ginny's room in the meantime, we brought in the camp bed and thankfully there's still plenty of space."

"Thank you so much for letting me stay, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh it's not a problem, we're happy to have you here anytime. Ron, dear, did you finish cleaning your room?"

"Well, it's still in the process..." he replied smoothly, walking past her to the stairs, which seemed to be endless. "Mine's at the very top," he told Hermione as they began to climb. At every door they reached he explained whose room it was, despite the fact that most of them had nameplates on the door. Percy's had a "Do Not Disturb" sign.

On the last landing, Ron led her into a small, violently orange bedroom. Besides a few small patches of wall that weren't covered in posters, the entire room seemed to be all the one color, everything in it bearing the "Chudley Cannons" quidditch team insignia. It was so completely crazy and bright that it just _screamed_ "Ron".

"They did better this year," Ron stated proudly, gesturing to a poster showing three players in orange robes racing toward the goalposts, "Weren't even last in the league."

Hermione laughed a little and sat down on the camp bed set up for Harry. Ron sprawled himself across his bed. "What made you like them so much in the first place?" She asked curiously.

Ron shrugged. "Dad took me to see them once, when I really wanted to go to a game. We couldn't afford any of the big teams, but the Cannons were doing so bad that he was able to get tickets on the cheap. Turns out it was their best game of the season, caught the snitch right under the other team's nose and-"

"I think you're in love, Ron," she interrupted jokingly.

There's was a loud hooting from the window and a small ball of owl appeared through the glass. Hermione recognized it immediately as the owl Sirius had given to him at the end of last year. "Pig," Ron said simply, walking over to let him in, "...Ginny named him. I tried to change it to something better but he won't answer to anything else." Pig fluttered inside happily, bouncing around the room with zealous. "He's a bit annoying, really, never shuts up." Ron led him to his cage with an owl treat and slammed the cage shut unceremoniously. A photo that had been resting in front of it descended to the floor. As Ron moved to pick it up, Hermione caught a glimpse and recognized it in an instant. After all, she'd just sent it to him earlier in the summer.

The picture was one of the two of them and Harry, sitting by the fire in the common room sometime last year. They were all smiling brightly at the camera, and from an outsider's point of view, they probably just appeared to be three regular thirteen-year-olds-without Sirius Black or Buckbeak or violent pets or any of the number of other things that had occurred to them last term. Hermione had asked Seamus to take it on her camera so she'd have pictures to show her parents of what Hogwarts was like. Once she'd gotten it developed she'd loved it so much that she'd sent it to both of them. It was probably the only photo in the entire house that didn't move.

Standing up and walking over to the window, Hermione saw that it was facing a huge backyard covered in flowers and bushes. To the left she could even almost make out a lake. "Your house is wonderful," she said, spinning around and breaking the silence. Ron looked up from rearranging the picture, the tips of his ears already turning scarlet.

"Well...it's not much. You can't get a minute of privacy, and it's more crowded than usual because Bill and Charlie are here..."

"It's perfect."

There were loud footsteps on the stairs and Ginny suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Mum says lunch is ready. Oh hello, Hermione."

"Hey Ginny."

"I'd get down quickly, if I were you," she added, turning back to Ron, "When I went to get Fred and George they were already plotting how to talk to Mum about WWW."

"What's-?"

"Long story. I'll tell you about it on the way down," Ron said simply, leading her out towards her first meal at the burrow.

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**_A/N_****- **Please take the time to leave me a review! After all, it is Christmas :)


	9. Chapter 9: The Fight

**A/N- **First off, happy 2013! I hope all of you had a lovely New Year. Now, it may be 11:27, but by golly I am getting this chapter up today! First one that's been on time in a while, I know.

I think it's fair to say that this is the most "angsty" chapter yet... poor, poor, fourth year Ron. I just want to give him a hug. Anyway, this chapter takes place during chapter 18: "The Weighing of the Wands" of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. Happy reading.

**DISCLAIMER: **not Jk Rowling. don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. etc.

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"Well, what I don't understand is why Dumbledore is making him compete. I've read about the Triwizard Tournament, of course, and the people whose names come out of the goblet are put under a magical obligation to participate, but I figured, surely, _Dumbledore_ would be able to get him out of it. I mean, particularly because it's so clear that Harry didn't put his name in. And then there's the question of who _did _put it in, and why. I've been thinking about it and- Ron? Ron are you even listening to me?"

Ron raised his head from his bowl of oatmeal to look at her. He had the rather rugged appearance of someone who had quite literally rolled out of bed, with hair askew and bags under his eyes. In all honesty he _had _sat up half the night, feeling miserable, and had awoke only to find himself feeling even more terrible. "Can we please not talk about this." He could feel Hermione's eyes boring into him even after he'd looked away, back down onto his breakfast.

"Sure. We can talk about why you're acting so strangely instead. What's gotten into you?'

Taking another bite out of his toast, Ron didn't bother answering. Even food couldn't lift his spirits, however...the bread tasted hard in his mouth and he had to swallow it down with a gulp of his morning pumpkin juice.

"It has something to do with Harry, doesn't it? Oh don't act all surprised, I saw your face when Dumbledore called his name yesterday. You can't honestly believe he put his own name in that goblet?"

"He might have!" Ron argued back, more to convince himself than Hermione. It was a lot easier to be mad at Harry under the illusion that he'd entered his own name. His only other reason made him seem like a prat.

"Don't be ridiculous, there's no way anyone under seventeen could have crossed that age line. _Dumbledore _created it!"

"Yeah, that's me, ridiculous," he muttered, turning away from her and ignoring the other part of her statement altogether. He could tell Hermione was already getting frustrated. From the corner of his eye he could see her looking at him stubbornly, brown eyes fiery and arms crossed on the wooden table, her breakfast lying forgotten in front of her.

"I didn't say you were ridiculous, I said you were acting ridiculous," she retorted angrily.

"Bloody hell Hermione, can't you just stay out of this?" Ron snapped, fully expecting her to get up and storm away to go find Harry. He could tell she was getting steadily more upset with him by the minute. Maybe he'd hold some kind of record... the first bloke to have lost both his friends in less than twenty-four hours. The sad thing was, he wouldn't blame either of them.

Hermione, however, did not leave her seat. "Oh for heaven's sake Ron! Just because you're _jealous _doesn't mean-"

He snapped back around to look at her. Some first years a bit farther down the table had heard their raised voices and scooted down away from them. "I'm not jealous."

Hermione's whole face seemed to soften as she looked at him. He couldn't even meet her eyes, he'd always been awful at lying... "I know you know he didn't enter."

More people were beginning to drift into the Great Hall now, soon they wouldn't be able to talk without interruption, and if Harry came down... Slowly his eyes drifted up to meet hers, and a moment of understanding seemed to pass invisibly between them. "You must think I'm a git," he said finally, when he couldn't look straight at her anymore.

In a matter-of-fact tone Hermione stated, "No. But I do think you should work things out. Harry doesn't ask for this stuff to happen, you know...it just sort of, does."

Ron didn't answer. That was the problem, that it happened to him. _Everything_ happened to him. Harry was the one who got all the credit for saving the Sorcerer's Stone and rescuing Ginny. It didn't matter that he and Hermione had been there for most of it, too. Nowadays whenever those events were talked about, they were conveniently left out, pushed aside, forgotten. Harry was the one remembered for winning Gryffindor the house cup and the one parties were held for in the common room every time he won a quidditch game with another dramatic, last-minute catch of the snitch. Sometimes, on their everyday walks to class, students from other houses would come up randomly to congratulate or compliment Harry on something or other, and not even bother to figure out his or Hermione's names or even acknowledge their presence. And now Harry was destined to gain even more glory competing in the Triwizard Tournament. It didn't matter that Harry didn't want any of it, or that he couldn't control his own fame, or that he would probably give his two best friends all the credit for those things happily, Ron still directed his anger towards him. After all, he was so fed up that he had to direct it somewhere, and there was no other real, viable option but Harry.

"I'm not going to just, go apologize," he said with finality. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why doesn't it bother you?" he asked eventually. _Why was it only him?_ He thought he knew, in a way. Hermione was brilliant. All the teachers complimented her and showed off her work in lessons. She was just as wonderful and almost as well-liked as Harry, only distinguished in different ways, by different accomplishments. When the three of them were together, it was always her, the smart one, and Harry, the brave one, and him, dangling somewhere in between.

Hermione was giving a lengthy answer, but whatever she was trying to say, most likely advice, knowing her, quickly became background noise. The real problem wasn't Harry or the Triwizard Tournament. It was himself, and all the things he could never be. It was everything he would never be able to measure up to. He didn't get perfect papers or win quidditch games. He would never be school champion or go back in time saving people, and it was a shame that he couldn't just blame the whole cruel world, for forcing him to meet such extraordinary people as if only to throw it back in his face that he was nothing but average.

At the same time, he couldn't bring himself to go apologize to Harry. Admitting his numerous faults was almost worse than them sitting up in his head. He needed more time to think it all through, and if that meant taking out his frustration on Harry in the meantime, even though it was the easy way out, then so be it. Hermione was looking at him expectedly, apparently she'd finished her small rant. "Sorry, what was that?" he asked.

"I'll just go take some toast to Harry," she replied, in a voice that was far too sympathetic for his liking. The last thing he needed was her feeling sorry for him.

"Fine." He watched her as she neatly stacked the toast on a napkin and bid him goodbye. As soon as she left, he felt even more alone.

* * *

He could hear her footsteps behind him, but it only urged him to walk faster...he'd thought he'd been doing such a good job of avoiding her. "Ron!" He had to repress a groan as he slowed down and turned. Seamus and Dean mimicked him to his right. Hermione came bustling over to them, wearing a wheat-colored jumper and a determined expression. "Do you mind if I talk to Ron?" she said evenly once she'd reached them. Seamus and Dean exchanged looks then shook their heads.

"See you in class, Ron," Dean said, patting his shoulder before continuing down the path with Seamus.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he stated as nonchalantly as possible, beginning to walk again, this time with Hermione in tow. Her voice was not nearly as calm.

"Yes well, _maybe _that's because_ you're _steering clear of me! Not to mention that _I've_ been the one helping our mutual best friend learn the summoning charm so that he doesn't _die_ day after next!"

Ron stared at her. She did look mildly hysterical. "Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic? He's not going to die."

"_Dragons_, Ron! Dragons! They do have a tendency to be murderous, you know."  
"I don't think they let competitors die, Hermione. Is that all you came to tell me?" he added, a bit more stonily than intended, "that dragons are potentially lethal?"

Though her eyes narrowed slightly, Hermione gave no other acknowledgement to his tone. "No, you're right, I got off the point. Look, Ron, the first task is in two days! Don't you think you could maybe just swallow your pride and-"

He knew what was coming, she'd been hinting at it more and more all week. It was the same reason he'd been avoiding her, because he knew he couldn't give her the answer she wanted. "No."

"Come _on_, Ron! It would help Harry, I know it would. He misses you...and I know you miss him."

"I said no! Can't you just let it go?"  
"Absolutely not. This is important. Please just go and _try_ talk to him."

She just didn't get it. It wasn't as easy as simply "talking" to Harry. Of course he wanted to have his best friend back. Seamus and Dean were great in a lot of ways, but both of them put together couldn't measure up to Harry. The again, he doubted very much that Harry would want _him_ back as his friend. "I can't."

"That's not true, of course you can. We've made up loads of times, haven't we?"

He thought about that for a while. "Look, I'll think about it. Is that good enough for you?"

"Not really. But it's certainly a start."

* * *

**A/N- **I love reading reviews! (not too subtle hint that you should leave me one!). I am little behind on replying to them, but I'm working on it.


	10. Chapter 10: The Yule Ball

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait guys, and also sorry for being so behind on answering reviews. That's the goal for tomorrow. Thanks A TON to all of you who are sticking with this story. As a reward for the long wait, this is a particularly long chapter. I switched it up a bit as well, and included both Hermione's and Ron's point of view all in one chapter. You know you're excited!

This chapter takes place during Chapter 23 "The Yule Ball", of _Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire._ Please enjoy and review!

**DISCLAIMER**: Harry Potter belongs to Jo Rowling. But my birthday was last month so maybe she'll gift part of it to me. No?

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chapter ten: the yule ball

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, trying to determine where to start. The more and more she looked at herself, the more hopeless she became. Why had Victor asked her to go with him in the first place? He was an _international quidditch player_, he was _famous_, he'd been in magazines and had figurines of himself sold to thousands. She was just her, plain and simple Hermione, who had no idea how to even _go about_ making herself pretty enough to be his date. She never even wore makeup and hardly so much as tied back her hair, which, per usual, was out of control.

With a sigh she turned to her four poster and the dress robes laid out carefully over the bedspread. They were a pale blue, and when she'd bought them over the summer she'd chosen them because they'd reminded her of Ron's eyes...which looking back had been a completely ridiculous idea. She was over Ron anyway. He had been a fleeting, childish crush. She almost wanted to laugh at how crazy she had been to even consider being anything but friends with him. Yes, a part of her had hoped he'd ask her to the Yule Ball, but as soon as Victor Krum had asked her to go with _him_, the thought had completely fled her mind. There was no point in waiting around for someone who would never think of her like that. So she was over Ron. Completely.

Besides, Victor was great, and he actually_ liked her, _or at least she assumed so, considering they were going to a ball together. He'd asked her one day outside the library, and she'd nearly dropped her books as she'd stammered out her "yes". She had already promised herself that she'd be much more composed tonight. Just thinking about dancing with him made her excited and nervous all at once. And then a thought crossed her mind that was very non-Hermione, which seemed to be happening quite a lot lately, and she wondered what it would be like to be kissed. Hermione didn't even know if he would try...did people do things like that on a first date? Was this even really considered a date? And what if she was lousy at it? Victor was eighteen (her father would probably have a heart attack if he ever found out), he was sure to have experience, but it wasn't like _she'd_ went out with very many boys in the past. Or any. What if their noses hit or she accidentally sneezed as he was making a move? She would not only be absolutely humiliated, but her first kiss would be ruined as well.

Similar thoughts danced across her mind as she pulled on her dress robes. The fabric was particularly silky and the robes themselves clenched a little at the waist. She smiled at her image as she turned back to the mirror. There was a sharp knock on the door and it creaked open to reveal Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny, the only person she had told directly who she was going with. Ginny beamed at her, she, too, already dressed in flowing, gold dress robes that despite being dated, looked quite pretty. At just thirteen Ginny was already beautiful, and, despite herself, Hermione suddenly found herself wishing her hair was as silky and her body as slim as her friend's. It wasn't like her to fret too much over her appearance, but then again it also wasn't like her to be dreaming about first kisses or to have an actual boy waiting to take her to a dance. "Do you think you can help me?" she asked the redhead. "You know, with my hair?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" Ginny laughed, picking up the small bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion beside her on the bed. "Are you going to straighten it?"

"Well that's the plan," Hermione said simply, ignoring Lavender and Parvati ogling in the background. She knew they'd been gossiping about her all week. Carefully, she sat down and allowed Ginny to unscrew the bottle and massage the potion into her thick curls, sincerely hoping it would work.

"It says we've got to wait five minutes for it to take effect before brushing it out," Ginny read off the label. Hermione nodded and turned to her dorm mates, who had both changed and were currently piling on their jewelry and talking about their respective dates.

"Padma must still have my good necklace," Parvati complained loudly. "I'm going to go find her, I told her I wanted it back ages ago! Come with?" She added to Lavender, who nodded. Together they slipped on their heels, which neither could walk well in, and exited with a quick "See you both at the dance!"

"Do you think Harry really fancies her?" Ginny asked sadly after Parvati had slammed close the door.

Hermione shrugged. She might have passed _her_ stage of fancying Ron, but Ginny was still head over heels for Harry, she knew, even if she'd gotten better at hiding it. "I'm not really sure." It was true. While she, Harry, and Ron told each other practically everything, they'd hardly touched upon the subject of relationships before. She _did_ know that Harry had asked Cho first, but she'd already been going with someone. Hermione would never disappoint Ginny by saying it, but she figured Cho was the one Harry really fancied. "I think he was just desperate to get a date at that point," she added quickly, seeing the crestfallen look on her friend's face.

Ginny seemed to perk up a bit as she pulled out a small book with a green leather cover. It was a beauty manual Mrs. Weasley had sent her a few weeks before, filled with various charms and tips for hair, makeup, and dress. Ginny flipped it open and showed her a page detailing how to do a simple up-do. "Do you think you can get the spell right?" Hermione asked nervously.

"I may not be as good as you, but I'm not hopeless," Ginny responded, pulling out her wand and running the brush through Hermione's hair. She practiced the wrist movement in the air a few times before pointing her wand directly at Hermione's scalp. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, then experienced the very odd sensation of her hair tying itself up of it's own accord as Ginny uttered a spell. Then Ginny set to work on her makeup. When Hermione finally opened her eyes and turned back to the mirror, she saw a completely different person's reflection, or, at the very least, a much prettier version of herself. Her hair, no longer bushy, was pulled back elegantly, the few pieces that hung down softy curled. She'd put in her best earrings for the occasion, her lips were shimmering in a soft pink gloss, and even her skin seemed to be aglow. That's when it hit her, she was actually going to the Yule Ball with a _boy_, a very famous, handsome boy, as a matter of fact. Her nerves instantly rushed back to her, but the smile did not disappear. She felt just as beautiful as Ginny.

* * *

"I'm going to get some punch," Ron said sourly. Harry, naturally, ignored him, far too busy staring at Cedric and Cho as they danced. Ron wasn't sure who had come up with this whole "Ball" thing, but whoever had had been barmy. Padma and Parvati had abandoned them an hour ago to get some food with a couple of boys from Durmstrang and had never returned, and he and Harry had been sat at a table all night, silently pitying themselves, and, to an extent, each other, as they watched the people they'd really wanted to take dance with other, older, muscular blokes. It was even worse than a years worth of History of Magic lessons.

Unenthusiastically he dragged himself over to the drinks table, which unfortunately required weaving through the throng of students dancing to a particularly loud Weird Sisters' number. Just as he as was nearing the table, he spotted Fleur dancing with the boy she had brought, who seemed thoroughly put out at the number of guys who surrounded his date, and had to take a detour in the opposite direction to avoid utter humiliation. He had no idea what he'd even been thinking, asking a girl like _that. _As if _he_ would ever be good enough for someone like her. Just look at him, he was wearing dress robes that had probably been out of date a hundred years ago, all frayed at the edges from his lousy attempt to hex off the lace. Ron would even say his night couldn't get any worse, but knowing his luck one of the chandeliers added to the Great Hall for the occasion would fall on his head, or else he'd catch Hermione and Krum snogging in the rose bushes before the night was up. Quite frankly he couldn't decide which would be more unpleasant.

Hermione was what was really bothering him, there, he'd admitted it. What was she doing with _Victor Krum_? _Quidditch player_ Victor Krum? Everything about it annoyed him, from the way he called her "Herm-Own-Ninny" to the way they'd been dancing all night to the way she'd un-bushed her hair for him. And all of it packaged into one had him fighting the urge to vomit. But, strangely, Harry didn't seem the least bit concerned that Hermione was out with Krum, which had allowed a tiny thought to cross Ron's mind, a thought that bothered him most of all: that he actually _fancied Hermione._ He'd tried to get rid of the idea, but every time his eyes landed on her dancing the thought resurfaced from the deep crevice in his mind to which it was wedged. It couldn't be true. He hated her with Krum because Krum was too old for her, too shallow for her. She deserved more than him, someone who could pronounce her name, he was sure to try and use her to thwart Harry, a thousand things before the fact that he liked her. But it was true wasn't it? He'd just admitted it. _He liked her_.

He couldn't like _Hermione. _Sure she was brilliant, sure she laughed at even his stupid jokes and helped him with his homework even when she was mad at him. And yes, she did have rather nice brown eyes. And her teeth were perfectly proportional now that Madam Pomfrey had shrunk them down. And he loved the way her hair looked when she fell asleep in the common room after a long night of studying, how it flowed around her shoulders in all its bushy glory, or in the summer when it would frizz so much that she'd pull it up in a pony-tail in utter frustration to try to contain it. Her writing was small and uniform and he had it memorized from the long letters she'd send him over holiday and the notes she'd scrawl in the margins on his essays. She preferred tea to pumpkin juice and Christmas to Halloween and Fall to Spring. She looked bloody gorgeous in blue dress robes. And he liked her. A lot. It made him want to gag.

"Hey there, little brother," a familiar voice greeted, disrupting his train of thought. It was Fred, pouring out two glasses of red punch. Ron quickly diverted his eyes from the girl in blue dress robes they'd wandered over to. If Fred and George ever found out they'd never let him hear the end of it.

"For Angelina?" he asked, gesturing to the second glass of punch in Fred's hand.

"Nah, she's dancing with George. This," he said, holding up the glass, "this is for Alice." He turned his gaze to a girl Ron recognized as a fifth or sixth year blonde girl from Ravenclaw. At his brother's questioning look, Fred elaborated. "See, I asked Angelina to come with me because George has been going on about her for _months, _and then at the last minute he became a scared prat and refused to ask her. So I did it for him. And then he got mad at me for asking her at all and decided to take Alice, because, well, look at her. Then, just now, see, I told Angie that George is _madly in love_ with her and _that's_ why I invited her, which really isn't too far off the mark, you should hear him talk. And she, being Angie, yelled at me a bit in anger, then went up to _him _and took the piss for his being too scared to ask her out. Naturally, now they're dancing. So I'm over there pretending to be George to Alice."

Ron's eyes widened as he tried to wrap his head around the story. "_You haven't told her you're not really George?_" he questioned, his eyes flickering back over the girl, who was innocently awaiting "George" to bring over her drink, unaware that he was actually now dancing with a completely different girl. Ron would probably have found it incredibly funny, if Hermione wasn't over there dancing with that lousy-

"Course not," Fred answered, grinning from ear to ear, 'What fun would that be?" He noticed the stony look on Ron's face and frowned, "What's up, Ronniekins? This is a case of the classic twin-swap, you're supposed to be rolling."

Ron didn't answer. Quite against his will his eyes had become glued to Hermione, her arms wrapped around Victor Krum's neck as they danced to a ridiculously slow song.

"Ah," Fred said knowingly, following his gaze. Ron wanted to kick himself. What had he been thinking? Everything his brothers could possibly do with Fred's newfound knowledge flooded his mind. What if they went and told Hermione what Fred had just told Angelina, that he was "madly in love with her"? He'd never live it down, he couldn't even bare the thought...frantically, he opened his mouth to spew some stupid excuse as to why he'd been locked on Hermione's swaying figure, but Fred was one step ahead of him. "Don't worry, I won't say a word." He offered an exaggerated wink and picked up Alice's drink. Then his voice softened as he looked over once more at Hermione and then back to Ron, "You'll get her one day, mate." Then he was gone.

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**A/N**: I apologize if you didn't like the route I took with Angelina and the twins. I'm one of those people who think people blew things way out of proportion when JK Rowling revealed that George married Angelina. It's not like the books even said Fred and Angelina did more than initially go to the Yule Ball... there was no hint of them being in any kind of serious relationship. So anyway this is just my take on what might have happened. Again, sorry if you don't share the same beliefs, and I hope it won't deter you from the rest of story! Obviously my focus is on Ron and Hermione.


	11. Chapter 11: Aftermath

**A/N:** No, this story has not been abandoned. Yes, I am still alive, and yes, this a long overdo update. I actually had mouth surgery and then I had a ton of work and I went to a concert and then I started watching Friends (yeah, I'm a bit behind on the times) and kind of fell in love with it, to the point that I was watching several episodes a day and neglecting writing. But I am here now, so no worries!

This chapter takes place during chapter 23 of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, "_The Yule Ball". I wrote this second Yule Ball chapter because there's just so much you can do with it, really, and it was just a good way for me to pick up with the story. The next chapter I will be moving on, promise!

**DISCLAIMER: **It would sound a lot cooler if my hiatus was due to gaining the rights to Harry Potter... but alas, I still do not own JK Rowling's story or characters or spectacular writing ability.

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chapter eleven: Aftermath

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"* Hermione promptly turned on her heel and stormed up to her dormitory before Ron could reply. This wasn't how the night had been supposed to go at all. She was supposed to be elated. Not only had she gone to a ball with _Victor Krum_, she'd also _kissed _Victor Krum. Her first kiss. It was overly girly and embarrassing to admit, but she'd dreamed of her first kiss being like the ones in films, where she'd come home blushing and spend the rest of the night dancing around in her bedroom to corny love songs.

That wasn't to say her kiss with Victor had been _bad_. Actually it had been quite good. She'd leaned the right way and kept her eyes closed and, even though it had lasted but a few seconds, a small little kiss, she didn't think she was all that bad at it. When he'd pulled away she'd even felt all floaty on the inside...though she wasn't really sure if that was because of actual feelings towards Victor, or just the fact that someone liked her enough to kiss her in the first place. Either way, it wasn't the kiss that was the problem, it was everything that had happened afterwards.

She and Victor had said goodbye on the grand staircase at the very end of the dance, and, not seeing either Ron, Harry, _or_ Ginny, she'd made the trudge back to the common room alone. The common room was filled with lingering Gryffindors arriving back from the dance, as well as a few students from lower years waiting up to hear about the night. Hermione had decided to stick around until Ginny came back. She couldn't be much longer, after all, and Hermione really wanted to share what had just happened with Victor. Unfortunately for her, the wrong Weasley had walked through the portrait hole...Ron, who was probably the least likely person on the planet to want to hear about her kiss with Krum.

Hermione had a very long track record of fighting with Ron. They fought about everything under the moon, and most of their fights were petty and stupid...but never before had they had to fight about relationships. Hermione cringed as she yanked another bobby pin out of her hair, which had already come halfway undone. How many of these things had Ginny used? It even took a moment to realize her face was still scrunched up with anger from her dramatic exit. _Why had Ron had to go and ruin everything?_ She'd already been mad enough after what he'd said to her at the dance, but their yelling match below just sealed the deal...she was furious.

For one thing, Ron had absolutely no right to tell her what she could and could not do. "Fraternizing with the enemy"! Hmph! Clearly he didn't know her at all, because she'd _never_ do anything that would damage Harry's chances of winning the tournament. There was absolutely no reason she shouldn't have been allowed to go to the dance with whomever she bloody pleased, and Victor was really a pretty good choice! Then he'd gone and started things up again in the common room and led her to say all those things and screwed everything up!

Her own angry words rang through her mind as she pulled on her pajamas. _"Ask me before someone else does!"..._gosh she was an idiot. Had that made her sound desperate, like she'd _expected_ him to ask her? Or even worse that she had hoped that he would? What if she had just unintentionally revealed all of her feelings to him? Not to mention implied that he just might feel the same way.

Despite the fact that her feet were on fire from wearing high heels all night, Hermione began to pace around the dormitory. Neither Lavender nor Parvati had arrived back yet, but she figured they'd be here shortly, and she wanted to savor every moment of silence up until that point. She just wasn't ever going to bring it up. Tomorrow she'd just wake up and talk to them like normal and not mention it, hoping Ron did the same. Maybe after a while he'd just forget it'd ever happened? She could dream, anyway. There was absolutely _no_ way she was going to let her stupid comment affect their friendship.

On the other hand, she wasn't going to not talk to Victor either. There was still that to deal with, though Hermione stood firm on the assertion that Ron could not control who she was friends with...and she'd genuinely had a fun time at the dance with Krum. The stories he'd told her about Bulgaria were fascinating, and the way he talked proved he didn't play Quidditch for the money or girls or fame. He was really genuine, ant there was no denying handsome. She saw absolutely no reason to cut things off with him.

Just then, Parvati and Lavender came barreling through the doorway, breathless from all the dancing. Hermione stopped her pacing immediately to greet them, then climb into bed, hoping they'd take the hint. Much to her disappointment, however, neither of the other two girls seemed the least bit tired. As they changed out of their dress robes, Parvati jumped into a long, rather irritating saga of what a let down Harry had been, even to the extent of using several choice words that Hermione would rather have not heard associated with her best friend. Just when she thought it was over, Parvati transitioned into the time she'd spent with the boy from Beauxbatons. Luckily, however, Hermione was able to "fall asleep" before Lavender could pester her about Victor, a conversation she knew her dorm mate would be bound and determined to have with her eventually. Thankfully, "eventually" wasn't that night...her day had certainly been long enough.

* * *

Hermione woke earlier than normal the next morning to try and catch Ginny before she went down to breakfast. As expected, Ginny was already up and ready when Hermione knocked sleepily on the door to the third years' dormitory. "Hey!" the redhead said cheerfully, greeting her friend with a smile.

"I need to talk to you," Hermione said in a whisper, not wanting to disturb Ginny's dorm mates, who were clearly still asleep. Ginny did not seem to have the same consideration, as she shut the door none to quietly behind her as she led the way out.

"Of course," she said, continuing to lead the way down to the common room. It was still early, with the few who managed to be awake already down at breakfast, and the room was empty. "So tell me," Ginny said excitedly, dramatically adapting a Parvati-esque gossipy voice, "How'd it go with Krum?"

"Good, I guess. I mean he kissed me..."

"He _what? _Hermione, that sounds a little bit more than "good" to me. You do realize who this guy _is_, right?"

Hermione sighed. She wished everyone could just put Victor's fame aside for_ five seconds_ and hear her out. "Yes. I just...well, I mean, Victor was great, and I had a lot of fun, but he just..." She trailed off, finishing the sentence in her head..._isn't Ron_. She'd been lying to herself when she'd said she was over him, because she wasn't. She really _did_ wish it had been Ron who had asked her to the Yule Ball. "I don't know what to do," she finished meekly.

"Maybe you just didn't give him enough of a chance. You said he was great and you had fun, so maybe you just need to spend more time with him before you start to really to like him, you know?"

"Yeah maybe." She chuckled, "I don't know if Ron will _let _me spend more time with him. We might have gotten into another fight lats night..."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well Ron's a git Hermione, everyone knows that. Besides, I think he fancies you." Hermione blushed scarlet.

She'd been thinking of telling Ginny for awhile, but kept telling herself that it was just a phase, that she'd get over it...though granted it didn't look like _that_ would be happening anytime soon. And her and Ginny had had a much closer relationship ever since she'd stayed with the Weasleys this past summer. Ginny was the closest girl friend she had. It wasn't like she could talk about these kind of problems with Harry, and Lavender and Parvati would never let her live it down if she told them. She had to just get up the nerve and say it. "I think it's the other way around," she uttered out quietly.

Ginny stared at her for a few moments before Hermione's words seemed to register, then her gaze widened. "You...Ron...you and Ron? Seriously? Hermione have you _met_ my brother?"

"Look you can't tell anyone about this Gin. I mean it. If he ever finds out he'll probably never talk to me again, and I'm still expecting this, this _crush_ or whatever it is to pass, so..." Ginny was still gaping at her. "Oh come on Ginny! It can't be that surprising. I've known Ron for years now and he's really sweet and-"

"Ew! I don't want to hear you talk about my brother!"

It was time for Hermione to roll her eyes. "I have to listen to you talk about Harry. _All the time_," she pointed out sourly.

"You and Harry aren't related. Speaking of which, he didn't seem to be having much fun with Parvati," she said, grinning.

"I guess not, yeah. But Ginny, I wouldn't get your hopes up-"

"And I wouldn't get _your_ hopes up about my brother. He can be pretty clueless. Besides, I still think Krum is the better choice."

"Maybe you're right." She thought about the way Krum had pulled her closer while they'd danced, and the strong, masculine air he'd had about himself when he'd leaned in to kiss her...

"Oh, I'm _definitely_ right."

"Right, well we'll see. But he's going to have to learn how to actually say my name." She stood up, "Come on, let's go get breakfast now, shall we? I don't think I could _be_ any hungrier." Ginny nodded in agreement, and together, the pair set out for the Great Hall.

*quote taken from page 432 of the USA edition of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

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**A/N**- Please leave me a review...and thank you x100 for reading! I promise the next update will be _soon_.


	12. Chapter 12: The 2nd Beginning

**A/N: **Last chapter for GoF! This one takes place during chapter 37, "The Beginning," of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. _Happy reading (and reviewing? *hint hint*)!

**DISCLAIMER: **I asked for the rights to HP last Christmas...Santa was not so kind. Alas, JK Rowling still owns Harry Potter, and I just dabble.

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chapter twelve: the second beginning

Ron Weasley was no stranger to death. The Weasleys were, needless to say, quite a large family. Both of his Mum's older brothers had died when he was very young. He couldn't remember it, but he had once heard Percy saying how she had cried for weeks, abandoning, for the first time in years, any housework that needed to be done. Since then it seemed that nearly every few months his parents would gather them around at breakfast, or send along a rather solemn letter with Errol, to inform them that yet another relative had died. Any day now Ron suspected to get word that his Aunt Muriel had finally kicked the bucket (and frankly, he hoped that particular message would come sooner rather than later). He didn't know, then, why the death of Cedric Diggory was bothering him so much.

It had been a week. A week since Cedric and Harry had emerged from the depths of the maze, one dead and one alive. A week since Voldemort's return (He winced. Even in his head the name made him uneasy). Mostly, he and Hermione had spent the time sitting quietly with Harry, first in the hospital wing, then in the common room. In those quiet moments, it was clear what the others were thinking about, because he thought it too. Everything was going to change now, and it had all started with the death of Cedric Diggory. He supposed that when his relatives died, he wasn't _really_ affected by it. Sure, he was sad, and he always finished his eggs in silence just like the rest of the family, but the person who was gone was never anyone he'd been close to. In fact, most of the time they were great-great aunts or twice-removed cousins...people he'd only met maybe once, and knew, for the most part, only by name.

Granted, it wasn't like he'd been best mates with Cedric, either. Despite the fact that the Diggorys only lived a short while away from the Burrow, he and the older boy had hardly said more to each other than a few friendly "hello"s and "how are you?"s. Yet Ron's dad and Mr. Diggory had always gotten along, and Cedric had always seemed nice enough to him. Diggory had been a familiar face in the hallway, an opponent to keep an eye out for on the Quidditch pitch, a competitor in the TriWizard Tournament who could give Harry a run for his money...and now he was just _gone_. The thought nagged at Ron, who was unable to wrap his head around it. The fact that you could just walk into a maze, excited and determined, and be thrust back out as a lifeless body scared him.

He knew it would be pointless to voice his concerns to the other two. Bringing up his own distress to Harry, who was obviously suffering so much more than he, would not only be selfish and wrong, but also stupid...which was probably what Hermione would say to him if he told it all to _her_. Ron could remember when he was nine or so, and a wizard who lived in the village down the road had been murdered in his sleep. His father had been reading the Daily Prophet article about at the breakfast table, in which several people raved about what a good man the victim had been, and how he didn't deserve to die. Charlie'd commented how it was funny that people got all these friends when it was too late, and at the time Ron had thought he was right. Now he wondered if all those neighbors hadn't really been looking for attention after all. Just because they weren't friends with the man, didn't necessarily mean they didn't care that he was dead. Ron grinned to himself as he recalled that that had been his mum's response. Maybe he was getting smarter.

"What are you smiling about?" Hermione asked abruptly, drawing him away from his thoughts. She had suggested they take a walk outside to get away from the stuffiness of the common room. In response, Harry had told her that he was fine where he was, and, sensing he wanted to be alone, they'd decided to venture out by themselves.

"Oh...nothing."

They fell silent once again as they walked along the edge of the lake. It seemed like years ago that they'd been summoned to McGonagall's office to get enchanted into sleep for the second task. Hermione had badgered him the entire way there, worried they were about to get in trouble for helping Harry make sense of the clue, while at the same time worried they wouldn't get back in time to _further _assist him in learning how to breathe underwater. She really didn't make sense to him sometimes...or most of the time.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to venture into the topic he knew was lingering in the air between them. "So...erm, what do you think happens now?"

"Huh?"

"Well, You-Know-Who's back, isn't he? I mean, what do you think Dumbledore's going to do?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, but you heard what Fudge said in the hospital wing. The Ministry's bound to keep it all hushed up as long as he's in charge."

"Probably, yeah."

"...and Dumbledore's probably really concerned about Harry. Now that You-Know-Who's back, he's the main target again." Her face grew suddenly anxious, "Oh, what if something happens to him, Ron? He's already been through enough as it, and if You-Know-Who finds a way to get to him-"

"He won't," Ron said simply. "Harry'll be fine...and if he's not, he's got us."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're two fifteen-year-old kids. A fat lot of good that'll do."

"Ahhh, but you're forgetting, _one_ of us is advanced for our age," Ron responded simply.

"As sweet as that is, Ron-"

"What?...oh...erm, _actually_, I was talking about _me_..." His retort elicited a small smile from Hermione. "Seriously though, cheer up. Mum says she's trying to convince Dumbledore to let him stay with us this summer. You can come too, if you'd like. I mean to the Burrow, you know. It's pretty big..." He knew he was rambling now, but he couldn't help himself. He'd been trying to figure out the best way to bring the question up for days, ever since his Mum had suggested it-and he really wanted Hermione to say yes.

"Really? I don't know if my parents would mind... I mean, last year with the Quidditch World Cup I was still home for most of the summer."

"Just stay with us for a few weeks then."

"Alright, I'll ask." She smiled at him. "Hopefully Dumbledore says yes about Harry. It'd be awful if he has to stay with his Aunt and Uncle all summer..."

Ron nodded in agreement. He, of course, wanted Harry to come stay as well, but he also knew he wouldn't mind if he got to spend some time with just Hermione first. And if Harry knew about his feelings for her, Ron figured his best mate would understand. "I'll write you when we know."

"Alright," she said as they made the loop back around towards the castle. "You better write more than last summer, though. I only got about one letter before the one inviting me to the Cup, and it was all but three sentences, if that! Honestly Ron, a fruit fly could keep in touch better than you."

Ron shrugged, "I was busy!" Which, of course, wasn't entirely true. Yes, a large part of the reason he hadn't sent her many owls was pure laziness, but there was also the fact that every time he wrote down what he was thinking, the words sounded much worse on paper than they had in his head.

Hermione looked surprisingly hurt. "Too busy for me?"

"What? No, that's not what I meant. Look, I promise I'll write more this summer, okay?"

"Well as long as you promise."

All too quickly, their conversation elapsed into silence once more, each consumed by their own thoughts. In the stillness, Ron's mind couldn't help but drift back to Cedric Diggory...his lifeless body laying on the outskirts of what was usually the Quidditch Pitch...half hidden by the smaller figure of Harry, who was grasping the TriWizard Cup in his hand. It was like he was back in the stands, staring down at the pair, initially in confusion, then in horror. Vaguely he recalled how strange the glistening, delicate cup had looked, clutched tightly by Harry's dirt covered, blood stained fingers. In his mind, he could hear the abrupt cut-off of the victory music as the spectators slowly realized something was not right. He remembered the murmurs of the crowd and the sharp intake of breath beside him as Hermione realized just what was happening, always a step ahead of everyone else.

From that point on, he could mostly only recall the screaming. He had blurs of what had happened: Dumbledore shaking Harry, Mad-Eye carrying him away, and the tingle of Hermione's hand on his as they watched the scene in front of them unfold, as if from a horror story...but these were only blurs. Ron wasn't sure if parts of it had even really happened, or if his mind had just made them up over time. And above all those swatches of memories was the noise...the desperate cries of Mr. Diggory, the unbearable sobbing of his wife, and the gasps and screams from the students...all Cedric's friends, or classmates, or admirers...

"Are you alright, Ron?" Hermione was looking at him strangely, and her gaze made him wonder if maybe she already knew, or maybe she was even a little haunted by it all, too. In response, he could only nod. "We should get back to Harry," she said, heading in the direction of the doors, "I don't know about you, but I for one think he's had enough 'alone time.' It's not healthy for him to keep things bottled up."

What, was she a psychiatrist now as well? "I don't think he wants to talk, Hermione."

"Well, then we just have to wait until he does."

The was one thing you could be certain of with Hermione...she wasn't one to back down. "Alright," he said, thinking better than to argue.

"Alright, then. That's the plan," and she marched him purposefully back to the castle.


	13. Chapter 13: To theBurrow?

**A/N**: First off, Happy Fourth of July to all my fellow Americans! Have a very patriotic day, and enjoy the fireworks!

This chapter takes place during, or even before, chapter one, "Dudley Demented," of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. Enjoy, and please leave some feedback in the form of a review!

**_DISCLAIMER_**:I do not own Harry Potter. Unfortunately.

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"Here, memorize this quickly."

Hermione stared down at the slip of paper in her hands, still feeling a tad nauseated from the flight there, not to mention the fact that, apparently, she wasn't going to be staying at the Burrow after all. She _had_ found it a bit odd that Professor Lupin had accompanied Mr. Weasley in fetching her, wondering why he could possibly be staying with the Weasley's, but had pushed it aside instantly when he'd informed her they'd be riding _broomsticks _to get there. Ron had never mentioned that he was no longer at home, even in the letter inviting her to stay with him for the remainder of summer. In fact, Ron's letters never seemed to mention much at all, something Hermione found extremely discouraging, given his promise last year.

"Do you have it?" Mr. Weasley asked, continuing to glance nervously around the dank street. It was early morning, and the sky was still a deep navy blue, the neighborhood still. Focusing, Hermione read the slanted, looping sentence once again: "_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_"*

"Yes, I've got it," she answered, even though it made absolutely no sense. She wanted to demand to know what was going on, but from from her escorts' anxiousness, she sensed it wasn't the best time to be asking questions. Almost immediately, Lupin plucked the note from her fingers and set it on fire with a casual flick of his wand.

"Excellent. Now think about what you just read, clearly in you mind."

She did as told, and before she knew it, the large wall of old house fronts was expanding in front of her to accommodate a number twelve. Mr. Weasley, unfazed, held open the shabby black door. "Keep quiet in the main hallway," Lupin cautioned behind her. Filled with curiosity, Hermione stepped inside.

Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. If possible, the inside of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, was even dingier than the outside, though in an oddly regal sort of way. The portrait-lined hall was dark, lit only by some interspersed old gas-lamps and a chandelier whose light was barely visible amongst the thick cobwebs that encased it. Every few steps, the hardwood floor gave a eerie creak. It was the sort of house that had clearly once been very grand, but had long since fallen into misery. Even the air seemed stale.

It was only after Mr. Weasley had closed the door tightly behind them that Hermione finally asked the question lingering on her mind. "Where are we?"

Both men, rather than answering, shot furtive looks at a set of deep velvet curtains covering a portion of the wall, and, ushering her forward through another door, led her into the kitchen. Seated around the long, wooden table that filled the room were all the Weasleys, plus Sirius Black and a woman with purple hair, eating breakfast. "Hermione!" Ginny beamed, looking up from her plate of eggs, "Good to see you."

"Good to see you, too," Hermione replied, grinning brightly. Mrs. Weasley, meanwhile, was already bustling over to her for a hug.

"Hermione, dear, we're so glad to have you here." She paused to look around the table. "You know Sirius, of course, and this is Tonks," she said, gesturing toward the bright-eyed woman with violet hair.

"Wotcher, Hermione!" The young woman grinned. "Ron's said a lot about you." She winked. Scanning the table, Hermione was able to pick Ron out from the mass of ginger heads by his newly flushed scarlet ears.

"What is this place?" she asked again.

"Headquarters. For the Order of the Phoenix," Ron's older brother, Bill said immediately.

Seeing her blank look, Ginny elaborated, "Dumbledore's secret society to fight You-Know-Who. It's all the people who fought against him last time, plus some others. People come and go all the time."

"Yeah but we don't know what they're up to," Ron intervened, "We're not allowed in the meetings." He shot a look at his mother when she turned away to fetch Hermione a plate.

"We've been through this, Ron, and you're far too young," Mrs. Weasley responded. Before Fred and George could say anything, she added, "_and_ still in school." The twins shook their heads in unison.

Hermione laughed and sat down in the empty chair between Ron and Tonks, perfectly content to simply let the others talk while she ate. Grimmauld Place was no Burrow, but, surrounded by the Weasleys, she still felt at home. Tonks was instantly likable as well. Hermione found it fascinating how easily she could change her appearance. She had read about Metamorphmaguses last summer, but it was really rare to be born with such an ability. It was something Hermione would love to be able to do...not so that she could make her hair purple, necessarily, but just so that she could make it a little less _bushier_, without all the trouble of trying to lather it in product.

At the far end of the table, Sirius was speaking in hushed tones to Lupin and Mr. Weasley. The last time Hermione had seen him, he had been on the run, mangy and unkept. Now he looked much more groomed, his hair trimmed and his clothes, though still old, at least not torn or covered in grime. Still, his eyes betrayed his sadness, his loneliness.

Hermione nudged Ron, who was sitting beside her, in the side. "When's Harry getting here?"

He looked over at her, his expression suddenly much less cheerful, and shrugged. "Dunno. I've been asking for weeks but they keep telling me they've got to think it through, get him at the right time. Dumbledore's got people watching him while he's with his aunt and uncle. I think they're afraid someone's going to try to pull something."

Hermione frowned. Harry certainly wouldn't take lightly to being watched over like a child, which meant he probably didn't know he was being looked after. Guilt crept over her as she imagined him alone in the muggle world, desperately scanning the _Daily Prophet_ for news while they all got to be here. She herself had been getting the_ Prophet_ all summer...and it worried her to think of him reading all that Fudge and his ministry minions had to say about him, and Dumbledore too. She would just have to make it a point to write to him more often.

"Wait a minute," she said, looking around the table, eyes landing back at Ron, "Where's Percy?" She had _known _that something was off. It was very rare that a Weasley meal went off without Percy gloating about some new task he was assigned to at the ministry, or informing everyone of the "important" events happening in the Wizarding community. Fred must have overheard her question, because he shook his head wildly in their direction, motioning with his head towards Mrs. Weasley, who was dividing out the remaining sausages between Lupin, Sirius, and Mr. Weasley.

"I'll tell you upstairs," Ron whispered back. "Are you finished?" She nodded, and together they stood up, Ron leading her back into the hallway towards the staircase, where Lupin had left her trunk. Instead of letting her grab it, Ron began hauling her belongings up the stairs by the handle, sending a fluttering through Hermione's stomach. Was it odd for him to be so thoughtlessly helpful, or had she just never noticed it before? Rather than ponder it, Hermione took the chance to take a better look around, pleasantly curious, until her eyes drifted to what was mounted on the staircase walls...

"Merlin's pants!" She screeched, her voice coming out hoarser than intended. "_Is that_...?"

"Shhhhh," Ron responded frantically, staring past her to the main hallway. But it was too late. The velvet curtains she had seen earlier flew open, and though from the staircase she couldn't make out what was behind them, she _could _hear the blood-curdling scream filling the hall. A moment later, Bill, Fred, and George all bounded out of the door from the kitchen and began tugging the curtains shut again.

"Aye, you two, pipe down. Ron you know we've got to be quiet in the hall," Bill said, shaking his head at them as Fred and George continued to work the curtain.

"Right, sorry," Ron said, casting a look at Hermione before continuing up the stairs. When they reached the landing, Ron set down her trunk in room just as questionable as the rest of the house. A thin layer of dust rose from the bed when she sat down. "Ginny's room," Ron said.

"What is going _on_?" Hermione said, looking around.

"Erm, what do you mean?"

"Well for starters, what _was_ that screaming?"

"Sirius' Mum. Well her portrait anyway. A delightful woman, as I'm sure you could tell."

"So this is Sirius' house then?" Ron nodded. "Well that at least explains the decor... Ron, those, those _heads _on the wall, they weren't _real_ house elves were they?"

"Well they aren't exactly 'real' anymore. That's why they're mounted, see..." Hermione glared at him. "Oh come on Hermione, you aren't going to start that spew stuff up again, are you?"

"It's S.P.E.W. and I most certainly am! It's disgusting, absolutely disgusting... and you probably think they somehow _wanted_ to get their heads chopped out and used as decoration, do you?"

"Well it does appear to be one of Kreacher's life goals..."

"And who exactly is Kreacher?"

"The house elf that's here now. He's a complete nutter, mind you." Hermione's frown deepened. "Look Hermione, I don't agree with their heads being on display, but consider the source...the Blacks' weren't exactly a model family. I mean, have you seen the _rest_ of the house? The whole lot of them were twisted, 'cept for Sirius."

Hermione sighed. "Why didn't you tell me about all this in your letters? I told my parents I was going to the Burrow!"

For a second, Ron looked guilty. "I would've, I swear, but Dumbledore told us all not to. He thinks the mail could be intercepted by the ministry. We aren't allowed to mention anything that has to do with the Order."

Hermione frowned, so much for writing more to Harry. "Oh. So how long have you been here, anyway?"

"All summer, mostly. We came here about a week after Percy left."

"After Percy _left_? What happened?"

Ron launched into the story of Percy's row with their father, Hermione growing more astounded by the minute. She has always liked Percy, even if he was a bit pretentious. In fact, she had always thought they shared a lot of the same values... learning, setting goals, and working hard. Yes, he could be a bit too uptight and obnoxious, but from all their previous encounters, Hermione never would have guessed he'd say such things to Mr. Weasley or abandon his family over something so much less important. All her respect for him was lost.

"So try not to mention him, or Mum'll burst into tears again, and Dad will get a sort of frozen look on his face," Ron finished dully.

"That's horrible," Hermione offered up lamely as comfort. Ron's face was set, but she could still see the anger in his eyes, flickering in and out. If there was one thing Hermione knew Ron was, it was loyal to his family. He sat down on the bed beside her heavily. It was the first chance she'd had since her arrival to really look at him. It hadn't actually been that long, but Hermione felt like it'd been ages since she'd seen him. Had he really been able to grow so much in just the short span of summer that had passed? "You got a haircut," she heard herself say, before mentally kicking herself.

"_You got a haircut"? That was the best she could come up with?_ Though, really, it was a rather nice haircut...much shorter than how he'd worn it last year. He must have gained a few more inches in height as well, as his worn through blue jeans seemed shorter than ever. Even his shoulders were broader. Hermione inwardly sighed. She was even surprised herself at how much she had missed him...everything about him, even the little things that nobody else seemed to notice. The selfish part of her was glad Harry wouldn't be around, at least for a little while. A minute later, she could feel his blue eyes on her, probably thinking she was a lunatic, to be looking him over like that. She had to get better at controlling herself, or sooner or later she wouldn't even have him as a friend. But then again, he was smiling at her. Maybe he was just too clueless to have even noticed anything was different. Maybe it was just her who could feel the tension, the thickness of the air. Maybe it was only her heart beating too fast, her brain swirling in confusion. She wasn't even sure if she wanted him to notice a difference.

_*quote taken from page 58 of the USA edition of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

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_**A/N:**_As always, thanks for reading!


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